Sock-footed, propped in
rocker-the emperor reigns
before stove belly.

Wooden bowl, empire
of riches-ivory and
gold, peaches and cream.

Purse-lipped and globe cheeked,
dipping spoonfuls of sunset
from a quart Ball jar.

How they slide over
topography of tongue and teeth-
earth smiles sweetly.

Lips slurp, fire snaps,
summer swells each mouthful-
remembrance dribbles down chin.

Tractors chug in sunny orchard-
wagon-load of mothers,
kids, old men.

Dusty leaves bend,
finger-length stretch from God-
wobble on creaky ladders.

Bite into the first drupe
reached for-pick-eat, pick-eat-
empty baskets below.

Drive home sticky-chinned,
sweet-sick, itchy-skinned, red-
nose and neck-bath blessings.

Long nights, languid dreams-
droop of lancelate leaves
in a Chinese painting.

Phillip Michael Sawatzky

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hot-fire-and-cool-peaches-after-walking-into-viola-sunset/