In this Bowl

six apricots
one freckled like a songbird’s breast
I’ll take and offer you
mixed with cold cream cheese
from the fridge

five apricots left
velvet skin gives way
to bronze juice sweet pith
sticky finger tips

four apricots
an imperfect square
in the circle of the bowl
one for your dessert

leaves three apricots
the colour of sunset
one is perfect
with fresh coffee

two apricots
like sleepy heads
at siesta one more
on waking

one apricot left there
for the taking I hold it
breathe it find no words
for all it says to me

Miriam Darlington