Shivers Dancing Bumpy Waves Crash Skin Crests [A Peach Orchard Transformation Sibling Dedication]

Standing lonelier than midnight indigo light,
arms clench tightly sides as if hugging for life….

Would you see my nearly spent peach-hued aura
while biting large fleshy chunks from overspilling bushels
of hand-dwarfing, fuzzy-burgundy-clad,
perfectly-harvested-juicy, ripe, roadside South Havens?

Shadow weirdly starts to vanish from atop rippling surface,
appearing so very real, that pulling a hand free from pants
pocket, I begin frantically to—from midsection down with pats—
verify or deny this loss of everpresent friend, whose purchase
readily spotted to left or right, in front or behind seemed so sure….

So badly clung I to hopes and wishes dashed upon ups….

For years shake this horrid vision could not I.

How and what and where and who and when and why…
No way and no thing, no place and no one, no time and no reason,
gradually, the frozen inaction of a terrible grip of everpresent terror
began to recede. Diminished in such manner, it submerged deeper.
Down…down…down, so buried, it—long lost—became a whimper….

Not heard from for ages, did this buried pit under a sapling of death
await its chance at turning a trauma of bereavement’s breath
into something quite unexpected and astounding to those once clad
in insulation fuzz-streaming crimson abrasions and splattered rotten juices….

For as I stood silent witness to bland become brilliance
didst suddenly arms take flight: opening to all of life…

…as skin-crashing-shivers danced bumpy wave-crests