“Peach Benediction,” Ensign, July 1991, 56
Peach Benediction
Honorable Mention
That last piece of fruit
Sitting in the peach juice pool
At the bottom of the bread bowl,
More easily drunk than sliced,
Ripeness dripping from its
Blanched and peeled flesh,
Shall not follow the others
Into bottles scrubbed and boiled,
Topped with brass lids,
Steamed shut—
Shall not be sugared, syruped, or preserved.
For I shall eat it.
It is my just dessert.