From Blossoms

Claude Monet

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

"To take what we love inside, to carry within us an orchard..."  What a gorgeous image. If only I could, if only that were possible. Can we get something into our heads enough that nothing can shake it out? I'd like to think that on some dark day to come, some future moment of despair I might take the thread in my hand and follow it down twisting trails to this orchard of joy, this reserve of sweetness, this living breathing growing hope for always flowers and fruit. Is that possible? I can only find out if I take what I love inside, if I do some work on this orchard.