From blossom, to sweet

From blossoms comes this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the joy 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 jubilant 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