Monday, July 9, 2012

Fleeting perfection

Tonight I ate a perfectly ripe banana. Just soft enough, but not too soft. No brown spots in the fruit, but the skin was dappled with them. (Glory be to God for dappled things.)

The perfection of a banana is brief, briefer than ... the blush of a rose.

How's that for poetic?

A thing of beauty is a joy ...
well, not quite forever.
I stole this picture from: Temerity Jane: Settle This XI: The Peak of the Banana. It came up when I googled "ripe banana."

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