This waning summer season which you dread
as harbinger of stunted days ahead
sustains us still with tributary light
transformed in time to fruits for our delight.
One reddened peach reprieves our failing sun
encapsulating heat in scale redone
within a smaller sphere which nonetheless
contains the hoard of summer's bold excess.
A living treasure ripens by degree
acquiring lush plump sweetness patiently.
Full flavor in a fruit must concentrate
distilling joys from days more profligate.
Just as your seasoned love now brings me this
rich surfeit of accumulated bliss.