-This poem reflects on peaches as a symbol of summer ripening into fullness, sweetness, and quiet generosity.
In the bowl beside the window light,
the peaches rest with quiet glow,
their skins half gold, half summer rose,
soft with sun and orchard air.
A sweetness gathers even still,
close to the stem, beneath the skin,
not sharp like spring, but full and warm,
the season rounding into fruit.
To lift one is to feel the weight,
not heavy, just enough to hold,
a ripeness made of light and time,
and all the weather it has kept.
So much of summer comes to this,
not only bloom, but what can nourish,
the tender flesh, the fragrant hush,
the earth made generous in the hand.