The branches bend down, heavy with growing fruit, but also tempting me in.
Ducking and twisting to the center of the tree, I see a smaller view of the clear summer blue sky.
Hidden beneath the intricate tangle of branches is solitude and quiet.
Each branch is packed with fruit, with little room to spare even for a leaf or two.
The sticks and twigs arch down to almost meet the ground, creating a hidden house of fragrant sweetness and calm.
The outer protection of each slowly growing peach is thicker, and perhaps softer even, than the fuzz spread across the nape and crown of new born babies.
Grasping the twig of branch with even smaller twig of the stem,
the fruit clings, together.
A gentle pull from beneath, on just the right fruit, rewards me.
Miniature and soft,
I fill my bag, and dare a taste.
The sun warmed, thick fuzz was hiding the juicy, golden, softness of heavenly peace.
This, this will sustain me through my many chores of gardening, and mothering, and striving for lofty goals. This warm summer moment of golden, heavenly, quiet peaches, beckoning us toward peace.