Pulpy Perfection

by Chuck A Stetson

crouching in soft light
she gathers the orchard fruit
vivid in color and sweetness

she tastes my offering
skewered on the knife
dancing in my hardened hand

pulp massages her tongue
skin sticks to her teeth
wetness swirls back and forth

amid fallen fruit she smiles
her sweet scent blossoms
lingering on the blade

© chuck a stetson 2015