You will see how the pavement is darkened by drops
Of melting Popsicles, and how the latticework of light
Slides via ferns slowly sideways

As if casting a more and more slanted light
Upon some object you try to see sharply --
It could be a peach -- as the sun

Drapes and dribbles
Along sidewise, penetrating
The auspices of evening with the night’s thrust

Which is also the weight of the fruit, its peachy keenness
To be, throughout the longevity of its shadow --
Now darker and darker, less azure -- you realize

This is the light of attention as well, how
It seduces its needing to be into sleep, stays
Vertical, incised -- each white peach hair frozen --

Then slung along soft ways until you decide.



©2005 by Jack Anders