Falling
Middle of night I wake
from minor clangs
on wooden deck below
followed by a certain
rolling sound
apples falling
at free will
leaving tree
behind
apples know
it is time to go
with gravity
back to ground
leaving heights
becoming mush
seeds to grow die
for generations
to come
or wait for
someone to bake apple
cake cook compote
leaving me awake
wondering about
my very own leaving
what will be left behind
falling back into dreams
bursting at the seams
heart split open wide middle of the night
A not just melancholy :) poem for the Fall. Beautiful and tender has me cradling the falling me.
ReplyDeletehumbling & joyous reminders from seemingly small moments
ReplyDeleteMmm how delicious.
ReplyDeleteJust a couple of days ago, Taylor shot a squirrel outside of the house we are living in. We have had squirrel stew for several meals, cooking the squirrel with potato, carrot, onion, kale, beans, and chiles from our garden, and celery from my friend Celsa's farm. The intimacy of living together then killing and eating shocks me into presence while I chew the tough meat. It is as if I never knew how much dying happens while I eat and survive, squirrel becoming ancestor as his body becomes my body. I cannot turn away from this: your sleep interrupted by apples falling - becoming soil - becoming lemon balm in the tincture that you share with me to help my own sleep.
Meanwhile, new age california discusses interconnectivity as if it is simply a conceptual exercise, and promotes veganism.
Love your connecting to the cycle: apples, squirrel stew (they eat my apples), lemon balm, sleep, soil... This is the season for it, so much to teach us....
DeleteNever had squirrel, sounds good... but had wild deer, recycled road kill, as a child, marinated for 2 days in buttermilk by my mother, delicious... meat was rare for our family, still is for me, but once in a while i like game meat, and eat it as medicine...