summer fruit

i have an appetite    
for yellow hand-picked    
blushing ripe mangoes    
nectar-dribbling my cheeks    
with sticky serum syrup    
skinned naked    
sucked-white seed laid bare    
like spent passion    
after an east indian feast    
   
give me mellow ripe bananas    
gros michel sibling fingers    
on an all-embracing hand    
crescent edibles    
in easy three-piece    
peel-off suits    
baring the belly    
of their delicate soft flute    
   
in my saccharine dreams    
of otaheite apples    
i kiss wet bites    
into their velvet rouge    
exposing cotton candy tissue    
‘tis i they say    
who am the master eater    
of delicacies    
fancied by birds and bees    
at summertime    
   
when, dancing o’er their river,    
i spy rose apples    
on a stubborn branch    
as suddenly i drool    
parting the leaves    
to bring the pale fruit down    
rose blossom aroma    
soon teases my tongue    
green, yellow, red, pink    
wax  jambu    
crisp, watery bell-pepper brittle    
neither apple nor rose    
but a preferent summer fruit    
to country boys like me    
who jostle with birds and bees    
for seven-course banquets    
in uncharted habitats    
   
© Copyright 2023 May 22    
by Clyve A. Bowen♫