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Seated underneath the peach tree,
I am about to partake of a piece of fruit
so new it doesn’t even have a name yet.
One crunch of teeth
and its juice explodes in my jaw.
My tongue laps at its sweetness
like a dog’s.
I savor so much
before my throat has at it.
Then I look up
at the branch that birthed it,
a mother proud at how
her child served the purpose
for which it was intended.
No pickers.
No baggers.
No trucks.
No grocery stores.
No customers
No checkouts.
No refrigerators.
Those she has no time for.
But she welcomes the thief.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, North Dakota Quarterly and Tenth Muse. Latest books, ”Between Two Fires”, “Covert” and “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, Birmingham Arts Journal, La Presa and Shot Glass Journal.