Every summer it happens—
It happens that I become paralyzed,
Paralyzed, that is, with the decision
As to which of my girls
To nickname “Peach.”
The paralysis stems from the consideration
That each one is worthy,
And to a verifiable extent:
Dear to my heart,
Locally sourced,
As fresh as summer dew,
With a hint of tartness,
Rosy as the dawn,
And a sublime companion to waffles.

July 22, 2018

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