the fruit you eat

#home#poetry

Shopping at ValueMart alone,
picking out the fruit you eat,
wondering why it always tastes so different
from the ones you have at home.

Then one day, you sit,
with the fruit you eat,
nibbling the soft spot on a peach.
“Grandma would cut that.”

And so you realize,
the fruit you eat
passed through hands of four people:
Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Grandma —
picking, peeling, trimming, slicing.

The fruit you eat,
is just ordinary fruit.
But these hands that touched it before you,
are far beyond extraordinary.