His work makes me want to walk barefoot in the orchard of his nostalgia.
Here his Fruits of Summer
I beg you eat me now I’m ripe if only to save me maturing to decay
Sink your teeth in the tendre rouge flesh set in place by my season in the sun
Delight in my juice and consume with glut my full offering
Then with thought I pray you lay my core in fertile soil so I may be resurrected with full knowledge of thy
And his Still Life with Peaches and Marble Vase
My love my care,