The blessings of the Lord will come
as peaches weighing down the boughs
and bushels overwhelmed with plums
in summer days without a cloud,

as sweet as cherries on the stem
whose taste you long for all the year—
You feast on shadows until then
and wait while ripening time draws near,

remembering how the juices run
down chins, and lips and tongues drip joy
enough and more for everyone
in song and summer's feast employed.

That memory in you is wine.
Like summer rain, let it pour down,
distilled from every branch and vine.
You need not turn the world around.

The light will lengthen, fruit grow ripe,
and feast be spread beneath the trees
in days that know no hint of strife,
in peace beside the restful stream.

Though you are winter, spring will come.
Though you are barren, peaches grow.
The Lord will fill your hands with plums
in feasts beyond all you have known.

Still Life with Peaches and Yellow Pot By Pierre Bonnard – https://www.the-athenaeum.org/art/detail.php?ID=139492, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=70363945