The south has a softer side,
winter sunrise is peach size,
a gown for a debutante ball,
its train shimmers on the water
antique lace curtain;
the Georgia Peach curtsies
with immortal grace, I’m certain.
Her suitors flock like clingstones
across fuzzy dunes, easily bruised
bone meal domes.
Socialite seagulls tiptoe the shoreline
keep their distance, nod, and dine.
Fading peach rind sun trail,
today’s a fancy cocktail.
A fizzy bellini low-tide
toast to our cotillion pride.
Salt and pepper grandstand,
the last of Granny’s jam.
Hold my hand when she arrives,
my Georgia Peach sunrise, then we waltz.
Flashback Track #51 asks us to write a piece inspired by a fruit or vegetable. While this piece is still ripening, I wanted to share it here before it fades. Happy Friday.