Ripe peaches

The Oracle’s message is melancholic (as it often is) and completely appropriate.


Beneath the crushing heat

of torpid walled nights

far from the forest languor of pooled shade

moon-petaled lakes mirror smooth

dreams whisper of rain from skies

pale blue washed sweetly

of clinging clouds of sweat


~I beat grey wings~


soar light as pigeon feathers

as morning mist on a southern sea

woman of water wading

treading distant air with phantom steps

girl quick and eager as memories

shining like the ripe peach

just out of reach.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

14 thoughts on “Ripe peaches”

  1. I started reading thinking ours were not similar at all, but then I got to wings and light and soaring. :). I especially like the last few lines. Lovely poem–maybe wistful more than melancholy?

    1. Yes, you’re right. It isn’t sad, really, just life. And the wings and soaring is the same, dreams and ghosts. It would be strange if they weren’t alike somehow 🙂

  2. This paints such a vivid picture…I love the phrase “woman of water wading”. We are all reflecting different angles of the mirror. (K)

    1. Thank you. We all have an affinity with water even when (like me) we have no inclination to get into it. Paddling or walking by a river or lake is enough for me to feel the peace it brings.

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