~JON BALLARD~

THE PEACH ORCHARD

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An absence of bees, which
Surprises—just us among
The laden, bejeweled trees.
One girl in the car sleeping,
The other trailing after you
Like a handmaiden, picking
Where you pick, gathering
What you gather.  The basket
Fills with more fruit than we
Can ever eat.  “I’ll bring cobbler
To the office,” you say,
Tempering our cheery greed.
Already we’ve devoured more
Than our share of happiness,
Though the inequitable 
Universe seems aloof, unaware
Of our years of good fortune.
Driving home the scent of
Peaches laps through the car
As if we are in the company
Of tides.  The radio, meanwhile,
Mentions darkening skies.
But not here, and not anywhere
We can see, not for miles and miles.

 
   

© by Jon Ballard