In the brightness of day, sunlight burns the eyes
and you buy peaches from a roadside stand.
In your car, you inhale the sweetness
savoring one and then another, as if tasting for the first time.
Their ripeness reminds you of pleasure
and the blossoms that birthed pleasure, once.
In the rearview mirror you see salty, wet fruit juice
watering your cheeks;
imagining
the dusty hands of farm workers,
the fragility of peach skins and marriage,
the inevitability of change.
You recall with hope the buds that bloomed in spring
trying to understand the ache which has
taken up residence in your heart; remembering
the kiss last night that took three attempts to complete; wondering
about lovers who cannot find each other in the dark.
After a pause, you move the peaches to the trunk and drive yourself home.
Jackie Redmer works as a family medicine physician in the Driftless region of Wisconsin. She is also the mother of three school-age girls. She started writing poetry during the Covid pandemic to steady herself during the brief pauses of her busy life. Her favorite place to write is in the backyard sauna.