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
