Apricot Rose

Apricots ripe from the orchard

I can smell them still and feel

Fuzzy nap, the color of peaches

Salmon. We wash them and dry. 

"Oh, gentle now", cut them in two

Pry out the pit with its almondy seed

Heat them in syrup and spoon into hot 

Glass jars for the canner to boil and seal

Mama lifts them from the bubbling water. 

They sit on a red-stripped kitchen towel

To cool. As I go on up to bed,

I stop to look at the stacked circles,

Touch the lids to check each seal—go

Dream to the spicy sweet summer smell.

Apricots ripe from the orchard;

I can smell them still.