Some mornings, for no reason,
the world is newer. The color
of the grass, the scent of last night’s rain,
the feel of the lover’s skin.
Everything feels charged
and abuzz with itself.
You might say, and
I would not argue,
that the world and everything in it
is another day older.
Yes, of course, and there
is also this: the taste of this peach—
I have tasted peaches before—
but this one is so very peach,
so remarkably peach,
like something I have known
only very, very new.
“so very peach” 🙂 I couldn’t have said it any better, how this one is so much itself than the other ones.