It’s a Gift

I don’t miss the time I missed
In sleep or drink or the rest
Of life I searched for—those days
Would not have stayed for a sage
That could not wait for a fool,
Nor would a young sage have kept
Each blink stowed and safe in mind
For good. But then, that’s not why
I don’t miss the time I missed.
What’s gone for good can’t loaf here,
Can’t haunt a day in the sun
When the peach tree by the wall
I watch glow from my back room
Holds gold orbs fuzzed in dark rose.
It’s what you do hold in mind
But not in hand that you miss—
The taste of the fruit you bit
The one who owns the whole tree
Once gave to you as a gift.