perfume

their plump selves
sit on the counter
fat hips tinged pink—
with thumb and finger
I test their readiness
not quite yet,
maybe tomorrow
they can’t be rushed
and yes!
this morning, their
fragrance blooms
Comice, the queen
of pears

the wonder! how
they ready themselves,
waiting to be plucked
do they anticipate?
will they be chosen
for eating at peak
or fall from the tree,
become fodder
for deer and bees,
softening, softening
into sweet mush
on the ground?
either way,
perfection

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.