Fresh Picked Peaches

We ran through the clover field
…her & I
Our boots filled with meadow dust and pollen
She offered me bouquets from the orchard
She found some wild lavender growing there
She crushed some of the branching blossoms
Rubbing the perfume across her shoulders

I love to watch her feel the earth
“Kisses to the wind” she would say
Releasing butterflies to the sky
Such a simple way to embrace the goodness

I marvel at the way her fragrance lingers
Wondering why I waste money on bottled perfumes
Every flower a sensual gift right at our finger tips…

She came back from Michigan with wicker baskets
She made them from her yucca garden
I never seen someone create such beautiful things
From scraps and little trinkets she discovers
All from the plush skirts of her back yard

Her yucca baskets have beautiful silk bows tied to them
She said she found the scarves in a ditch
(While on her usual treasure hunts)
“I think someone lost their scarf driving by” she said
“but then again people throw away such useful things…”

She showed me her yucca baskets full of fresh picked peaches
With sun kissed cheeks
She held one to my lips…
”isn’t this the sweetest fragrance?”
Oh how I love those fresh picked peaches…

She took a bite sucking in every nectarous drop
Extending her arm she leaned into me
…offering me a bite

I never knew peaches were so sensual
The juicy pulp of the peach saturated my chin
Dripping down the curve of my neck
She leaned in whispering “isn’t this delicious?”
Her mouth tasting the remnants of my chin…

She never lets anything go to waste…

©  Poetess Victoria L. McColley