WomanWyrds

nearing twilight

today i wandered through the orchard
to find remaindered fruit upon the upright
soldier trees. gathered ambrosias
in a red cloth, filled, then searched
the neighbour's delicious goldens
falling, falling into cider.

a scent of spices as i bent for walnuts,
shells crackling open through black
mud around them. protection has its price.
in the garden lay green tomatoes. two blushed.
once more my shawl was pregnant,
rounded shades like one of those

other trees. close up, i saw the flaws,
threw one or two back to meandering
birds. much left from summer.
still, the hovering clouds pretended
there was nothing new, no yellowed hills
to press these viscous bones back to their cores.

posted by Heather Cardin @ 5:25 PM