Tag Archives: peaches

Sweetness and gravities.

Li-Young Lee has written at least two poems about peaches; I am guessing they are in many ways connected in his memory to his childhood. Here is the most recent one I came across, which is about much more than the sweet fruit itself:

THE WEIGHT OF SWEETNESS 

No easy thing to bear, the weight of sweetness.

Song, wisdom, sadness, joy: sweetness
equals three of any of these gravities.

See a peach bend
the branch and strain the stem until
it snaps.
Hold the peach, try the weight, sweetness
and death so round and snug
in your palm.
And, so, there is
the weight of memory:

Windblown, a rain-soaked
bough shakes, showering
the man and the boy.
They shiver in delight,
and the father lifts from his son’s cheek
one green leaf
fallen like a kiss.

The good boy hugs a bag of peaches
his father has entrusted
to him.
Now he follows
his father, who carries a bagful in each arm.
See the look on the boy’s face
as his father moves
faster and farther ahead, while his own steps
flag, and his arms grow weak, as he labors
under the weight
of peaches.

-Li-Young Lee

And here is the poet reading another poem more focused on the subject, which I shared some years ago without the audio. This one really makes me want to drive an hour or two into California’s Central Valley to find some peaches that fit his description:

Not only the sugar, but the days.

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

Monet – “Peaches”

 

What a peach means.

It’s not summertime until you eat a tree-ripened peach. I hope I will always remember that on this day I ate the first real peach of my summer 2015, sent to me in the morning by Mrs. Bread from her own beloved tree.

It’s also the day that my pool is being chopped up, and I’ve been taking lots of Work Machine pictures and videos for the grandchildren to enjoy, but I can’t bear to post one of those here until I have something constructive to go with it.

This picture is of the peach I haven’t eaten yet. My friend actually sent me two juicy globes to warm my heart with the assurance of the seasons continuing as a sign of God’s constancy. Tomorrow will be another good day….

peach P1010226 peach