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Picking Peaches
by Christine Gelineau

Even before we're close enough
to reach to them we smell
the sweet offertory of their ripening.

Birds lift with loud reluctance
leaving behind opened suns
of soft-fleshed fruit.

He steadies the ladder
while I rise among the leaves
handing down the warm-skinned globes.

Peach by peach they drop
from my fingers to the cradle
of his outstretched hands

and for that moment we
too are as filled to the skin
as fruit.

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