In a wooden basket, on the peripheral of a busy sidewalk,

Elevated Train rumbles above and cars thunder past,

A peach, perfect in every way, awaits a hungry mouth.

Bourne on a farmer’s motorbike,

From the verdant mountain orchard which gave it birth

Now it waits in resplendent glory

Nurtured by the sun, sold under the full moon

The arc of its creation manifest in its deliciousness

Sweet ambrosia of loamy soil and gentle sun

And the delicate hands of a loving farmer

When the mountain peach is tasted

The faithless man believes

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