Being Wise Eight

 Photo of peach blossoms outside my kitchen window 

                    by Janet Wyatt March 2021

Being Wise Eight March 28, 2021

When I yield, admit it’s time

to wash the dishes, and I

stare out the kitchen window,

peach blossoms cluster

themselves in my view. Drudgery

disappears. Can that many

peaches crowd those slender

stems? Will some fall that

others may be pollinated and

grow fat and pink? Will bugs

gnaw and chew before my

eyes or will some come safe

to the window harbor? Will

the unruly grape vines climb

over the chicken run and feed

the hens below them? Will I

be able to reach up and harvest

the volunteer peach, the impetuous

grapes? Possibly apples and

pears may still bear. Oh, the

work to reclaim my orchard. 

So many broken limbs, unpicked

fruit, vine tangles. And the figs.

Will they survive? We plan a

garden. So far onions and

replanted peas. Next beets.

Later cukes and beans. Tomatoes

and sweet peppers. Meantime

the bees are busy among the

nascent peaches. Oh, please

live. Please make fruit 

we can all eat.