THREE FIGS

Direct from the store on a hot July morning

you bound brilliant and sunny through the front door

in your hands

three green plump figs

wrapped in leaves

the first of the season

brought into the grocery from a neighbor’s tree

It’s still too soon for our backyard tree

to bear its large purple figs we will pick in September

you in the yellow Italian soccer shirt, I in the matching blue,

delighted with the figs and each other 

we laugh as though we still were the teenagers

we were when we first met

You say

as long as we are together

we will always be fifteen

It is high summer now in a light filled dining room

we savor and share three green figs on two china plates.