FROM BLOSSOMS
From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.
From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.
O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
-Li-Young Lee
There is nothing better than a peach.
LikeLike
I love his description of re-experiencing past happy days by eating the shade. Thanks, G
LikeLike
What a lovely poem. I’m so glad that the poet included the dust. That’s part of the charm of fresh-from-the-tree fruit: being unafraid of the dust, being undone by the sweetness of life.
I like the background for your peaches, too. My guess is that’s a William Morris design. It’s lovely, and perfect.
I’m so behind in my commenting, but I’ll be trying to catch that up later today. I have read your Oregon trip post a couple of times, and keep getting sidetracked as I run off to explore this or that you’ve mentioned. I’m so glad you had a good time. Here’s to happy Independence days — of every sort!
LikeLike
Yes, William Morris!
LikeLike
I love a dusty peach. Great poem.
LikeLike
Poetry as theology! Peach icon. Powerful testament. God filling his trees and his people. A summer prayer of love. Thank you, Gretchen, for increasing my day!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I just bought some dusty peaches at our local co-op. There’s nothing better than a good peach, and nothing worse than an uninspired bad peach. Thanks for sharing this poem–it’s perfect for today.
xofrances
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful! Thanks for sharing your lovely finds and thoughts. They are blessings!
LikeLike
“There are days we live as if death were no where in the background.” What a beautiful thing to note! So many days are almost imperceptibly tainted with death in the background. Every moment we hurry as if we’re running out of time. Every feeling of regret. Beautiful poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person