the final eight peaches

all photos: james lee jobe

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I went out at first light and gleaned

the final eight peaches from the tree

it had been a good peach season this year

rain   light   and love    in equal measure

the birds didn’t ruin too many

the level of sweetness was perfection

and both the size of the peaches

and the size of the crop were appropriate.

I say eight final peaches

for that was how many I held in my shirt-tail

which I used as a basket but truly there are nine

that final peach I ate as soon as I plucked it

dew-wet and cool in the morning air

my house was dark and silent

only I was up so early   5:30 AM

the street was empty as well

just me in my 'grove' of three fruit trees

my goodness   it was delicious

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a windy wet day

and I see my son through an opening

in a stand of pines

          it's been years since the funeral 

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walking the trail between the mountains and the cities

the path of being a true human being

the way between the light and the darkness

you can see crows and owls and lizards

skyscrapers and bridges

trucks laden with nothing important that drive

from nowhere that matters to a place without a name

look for the rivers

look for the desert

learn the names of the plants

sunrise and moonrise and the stars across the sky

this trail   this path   it goes on for one lifetime

you can stop where you want

or turn aside

and you can choose to walk to the end

but whatever you decide to do

keep your heart wide open

so the love can flow in and out

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opening my front door    the past

blows in    uninvited

I open the back door

so it can blow back out again as well

no past   no future   just this moment

may I pour you some tea

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shivering on the north bank

putah creek rolls on under my reflection

the creek moves along

but my reflection remains still

a cold winter morning in winters california

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winding the old clock 

I ask it about all of the hours it has shared with me 

no answer   just the sound of morning rain

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the dharma is my rock 

and this present moment 

               is my flower 

I love to rise early and sit in silence 

long before the rising sun

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love has already won

even if it doesn't look that way

poems by james lee jobe

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Justice is like a train that is nearly always late

Yevgeny Yevtushenko

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Like the craze on porcelain, fine branches

apportion the lonely white sky.

Miyazawa Kenji

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You must personally accept the responsibility of improving your own life.

 Lama Surya Das

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If you are capable of living deeply one moment in your life, you can learn to live the same way all the other moments of your life.

Thich Nhat Hanh 

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