From blossoms comes br this brown paper bag of peaches br we bought from the joy br at the bend in the road where we turned toward br signs painted Peaches. br br From laden boughs, from hands, br from sweet fellowship in the bins, br comes nectar at the roadside, succulent br peaches we devour, dusty skin and all, br comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat. br br O, to take what we love inside, br to carry within us an orchard, to eat br not only the skin, but the shade, br not only the sugar, but the days, to hold br the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into br the round jubilance of peach. br br There are days we live br as if death were nowhere br in the background; from joy br to joy to joy, from wing to wing, br from blossom to blossom to br impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.