The plum you’re going to eat next summer

doesn’t exist yet; its potential

lives inside a tree you’ll never see

in an orchard you’ll never see, will be touched

by a certain number of water droplets

before it reaches you, by certain angles

of light, by a finite amount of bugs

and dust motes and hands

you’ll never know. The plum you are

going to eat next summer will gather

sugar, gather mass, will harden

at its center so it can soften toward

your mouth. The plum

you’re going to eat next

summer doesn’t know

you exist. The plum you are

going to eat next summer

is growing just for you.

by Gayle Brandeis