Peach

With closed eyes, my nose twitches from soft fuzz that dances below my nostrils. Fragrant floral aromas cavort with subtle vegetal spiciness and if orange had a smell, this would be it. 

Thwerp. Thwerp. Chirp. A gentle summer breeze lazily sways past my cheek, taking a few strands of hair along for the ride while little crickets and frogs drunkenly sing the night away. I open my eyes to examine the supple orb in my hands. Down the hatch! The rough skin kisses my tongue, then gives way to the slippery flesh beneath. Perfumed honeyed tartness fills my mouth like smoke in a glass house. The sweetness of this moment is piqued by the sour remembrance that summer's near its end, but I will savor the last full moon of the season in the good company of this whiskered sunny peach.

Andreya Nightingale