That ripe peach is calling my name.
Looking just the way I like … plump.
I can tell by looking at it,
got flesh so soft, juicy, and sweet.
Been too long since I had fresh fruit.
Tired of spreading these old preserves,
stuck up in those dusty pantries,
not enough sweet and too much tart.
When I was young, I’d shake the tree
just by looking at the branches.
Find me a piece that was just right.
Run my lips across the peach fuzz,
licking before I took a bite.

M. Zane McClellan

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