Walking from Delft station to Delftse Hout in the midst of Spring. The sun is out in, the air humid. If you look to your right you see people rowing, to your left- a heron is attentively watching the water to see signs of prey. As I get to the park two curly haired boys are running to meet me. Cow parsley blooms are everywhere, the dappled light through the trees is a delight. There are some last dandelions here and there.

And I adore this family!

The poem that felt fitting is of Li Young Lee:

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.