Is It My Imagination?

...Or is the Sacramento Bee publishing more about local poets, these days? Not too long ago, there was a feature about Gene Avery; today the "In the Hot Seat" column of Metro section features local poet/musician Ruebi Freyja. This is, of course, all to the good. Check out the lovely Reubi's interview today; her philosophies about art are right in line with mine: don't let careerism take you over, and she and I both write (and in my case, publish others) to serve a higher purpose.

My peach tree has suffered a fatal accident: three of its four main branches have fallen off recently, so its days are seriously numbered. This is a sad passing for me, so I am memorializing the tree by including a poem I wrote years ago. Please excuse Medusa for publishing something of her own:


ALMOST DRUNK ON PEACHES
—Kathy Kieth, Fair Oaks

I send him up into the forest
of peaches: my tree is gnarled
and knobby, but this year, she has
covered her crooked branches
with golden globes of sugar. He

is dubious: raised on fast food
and antsy pleasures, he assumes
there will be nothing for him
here. But he indulges me: climbs
for the small suns just out of reach,

crawls into and around and over,
bucketing each planet . . . And then
he holds one up, considers its color,
finally bites into it. And I join him
in another and another and another,

and the nectar rolls off our fingers
and down our arms, and our eyes
meet over the dark fruit, and it's all
me and him and the ladder and
the bucket and that sweet, sumptuous

taste, and we cannot get enough: so ripe
and full of color and light and sugar
that we are nearly drunk on it—almost
lost in the juice and all that sweetness—
almost drunk on the dark, rich musk

of summer peaches . . .

________________________

May your day be an especially peachy one!

—Medusa (who cannot get enough...)