You wouldn’t know the complex trail of seeds within, a whole universe hidden, snug and safe within a waxy sheen of red. You couldn’t tell the days of waiting, the hours of silence, the minutes of longing as each seed burst into life, and then began the painstaking process of becoming a full seed. You can’t imagine the slow fingers of nature, unfurling beauty one drop at a time.
I notice the curve, trace the mystery, and touch the fullness; each globe a weight that I gently pass to young hands. I ponder the culmination of sunlight and water, the gift of the soil, labor of man and earth – all contained within my palm. I receive the work of nature, the bountiful and generous offering, absurdly delighted with such splendor.
Preserving the moment, savoring the tangy pop, grinning with young faces…the fruit becomes a feast, a celebration, soon only a sweet memory.