[gnat]

Lovely and loveable and downy and soft. Swaying breeze. Fuzzy. Sucking sweet. Off on off on. Up down up down. Not enough time. Time always going. Hurry hurry hurry. Loveable lovely. Downy fuzzy. Smells wonderous wonderful wandering wonder. Land and go and land and go. Round and around. Around and round. Lingering here. A scrape microscopic. Sucking. Suckling. Juicy lovely loveable wonderous peachy fuzz. Unclaimed first. Mine mine mine. No sharing. And time running. Hurry hurry. Go go. On to nothing with an opening here microscopic. On to here. Fly and land. Still there. Land and fly. Still here. Sucking suckling juicy goodness. Sweet lovely loveable. Round and around. Delicious downy soft swaying breeze. Stem to button down down. Hurry up. No time. Sucking lovely juice. On and off. On and off. Up and Down. Up and down. Nature calling. No time. Hurry up. Hurry hurry. Mine. Off and on. Never enough. Suckling wonderous juicy off and on. Round and round. Around. Off and on. Up down up down. On off on off. Never enough. Time time time. Never enough. Sucking. Go go go. Sucking. Sticky feet hurry. Go go go. 

 
[man]
 
Reaching upward to grab one glorious ripe circle of peach he touches the skin and tugs bringing the branch to snap back as the stem breaks from the hold. His fingertips make five loving dents in the surface and let the true identity spill. Before he smelled leaves and branches and pollinating windy bees but now he smells waterfall nectar and lurid summer sun. It is a mystery smiling teeth and kissing lips. And he touches the fuzz skin to his rough farming face as he does with the first ones and ends up closing his eyes at the radiance of it all. He thinks of his daughter a fingerprint of his body. And his wife a smile even on penniless nights. And the way the trees are in perfect grandfather rows and hang bull ball low with fruit. He drops one more into the hand basket. These are to be saved for his family. To be eaten at their breakfast table and no one else's. These are the special ones they look forward to and the ones that taste the sweetest.

 
[god]

Sitting bored and stolid. Sitting on nothingness. Sitting nowhere. Nothing to do with the peaches anymore. Seeing insects attracted by scent. Seeing farmers choose and pick. And people buying and eating and digesting and shitting. And the shit giving back to the earth giving back to the trees giving back to the peaches that will be grown and picked and bought and eaten again and again and again. It was created and set in motion and stepped back from and works now all on its own. But there will be six hurricanes this time next year. And there will be an earthquake in three days. And there will be torrential rain where flooding happens and drought where crops die and a wind that rips seven hundred and twenty two roofs from seven hundred and twenty two houses in a modest town somewhere. But the money and the politics and the violence and the mechanics of everything couldn't have been imagined even in the depths of the depths. And so the peach looks all the more wonderful each season. Especially sitting bored and stolid on nothingness nowhere with nothing to do anymore except wait for the peaches to ripen all on their own.