Academic journal article Field

Peach Tree

Academic journal article Field

Peach Tree

Article excerpt

Winds are blessing one by one the unlighted buds of the bent peach tree's unnoted return. At first light, gray, I stand beside the tree my height. Such fragile limbs, as of bark-covered glass - how did we ever survive, find our way back and take again our alien stand here, reappearing at the tip of one of the endless branching roads, a dead-end finally? One of quiet's addresses. Where I would endure five more years, lying low; survive until I couldn't. I'd often wondered where it would happen. So, one more northern spring has been given me, too, frail peach tree. You look good. You look like you could go on doing that forever. I have no more idea what I look like than you do, I am happy to say, all of that is over, that business with the mirror. One lifelong winter afternoon I noticed it had stopped. I couldn't any more, and that was all, wish I'd thought of it sooner. Trembling with the effort not to break, between thumb and forefinger, this one hidden branch I identify with and am trying to lift and lower my eye to. Leaves receding as I reach out, some force inside me pushing them away, maybe; I hope that isn't so. …

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