Kiwifruit

in anzac khaki with telltale stubble

an egg-sized time-bomb waits its moment

precious at the pacific rim

 

would a fruit by any other name taste as sweet

whether chinese or a gooseberry

cut open green as pounamu

 

roll over pavlova a pas-de-deux

by their fruits you shall know them

pavlov gourmands stepping up for more

 

of that smell somewhere between

arctic and tropic depending oblong

on the tilt of a green planet

 

of that sound amidst clattery leaves

birds abuzz depending there so long

ripening into grateful scoopfuls

 

Orange

 

a range of o so many catch the eye

   secure in socket sizing the day

   their colour a name all pre-arranged

 

orchard breeze of every language lifts

   tang skin dynasties hold compact aroma

   release as real peel deals uncurl

 

under wraps an octagon obtains else

   pithy decahedron boats torn from moorings

   else fingernails dodecahedrons dissect

 

their stark materials sharp curvaceous dulcet

   squelch harmoniously along the nervous system

   like favourite familiar tunes into the dark

 

eating segments opens sounds close in mind

   growing up fast laughing all the way

   picking a flower on this fantastic day

Apple

 

grew to the exact weight and balance to fall

   turned on its axis in the wind sufficient to fall

   here where it rests in a thankyou bowl like a still life

 

cool as to touch and that way for weeks of time

   colours over every curve soft to disappear

   an invitation to bite and bright till they’re gone

 

once bitten twice why not the scent of airy wood

   is it or watery flesh or bitter or sweet it is

   to the last mouthful the scent of our world

 

the crunch the head inside hears the chop chomp

   intimations of mortality inimitable

   serendipitous bitesize gulps  

 

tasting belonging to be and the longing to be

   going on forever a taste of this airy world

   fresh acidic sunny tart champagne