the wild cherry lies half hidden beneath a scaled root
an ancient finger reaching in gnarled arboreal hunger
it fell ripened red with a side of yellow but would sour the tongue
though the oak might seek that tang as a bracing relief
from the sweetness of rotting things
the land beyond the fence belongs to untamed plants and feral creatures
and all that reach whatever end moulder there
leaves joining fur and bones in the fecund of decay
so many times she said I died,
then I’d take a breath and live.
again. until the next time.
years later I saw her.
for me it was as if for the first time,
yet she gazed at me and smiled,
“I would know you anywhere.”
when I left, she held my face in her hands,
her touch a gentle fierce love.
then I remembered.
and I know why I returned.
before I open my eyes I know
the hot sky will be overcast with gray
my head so full of clouds heavy with their pressing need
that I cannot lift it from the bed
eventually I find surcease
having become a parched field for any rain that might fall
a bit of thanks, my handhold
the memory of kindness received, a sturdy stick
rich with earth and sun and rain
life itself as it ran through seed and vine
heady enough to make one dream
not just of meals laden with bounty
but even of future ambition
other crops sown in dirt raised to harvest
generations that farm and forage
wisdom once lost regained and put to use
in last delicate balance with new
and in our waning perhaps we say
at the end finally we understand how to live
though I would keep forgetting, everything-everything!-is friable
a tea cup shatters but also bones
I fractured a rib in a paroxysmal coughing fit
the bedroom wall now shows a ceiling to floor crack
also my immune system despite good care
I enter into a crowded space, I leave with a chance of sickness
my recoveries slower, more incomplete
the walking stick’s bark is beginning to flake off
but it holds me upright in the steep yard
we’re both still serviceable but showing our age
one day it will break
one day I will die
perhaps we’ll do so together, companions in the bardo
some afternoons hover on the edge
a rough pottery cup falls from my hand
spilling dreams across the kitchen table
their brilliance saturates the wooden surface
as it turns live with colors previously unknown
rain drops transform into birds with glassine feathers
that fly through the smazy windows
in a dazzling glitter of reflected phantasmical hue
all vanishes as I retrieve the cup
tea is ready
after weeks of punishing heat
we walk out in early hours to sky misted with clouds
and raise our faces wet with what could be tears
but is rain so tentative we almost fear to breathe
we stand in mute petition to beg the sun to hide
please give this day over to other weather
let us hope that what comes is kind
in this here at this now so much noise
air itself vibrates and hums
counterpoint to the rising drone of heat
the occasional wind a parched threnody
in chorus with barren hillsides
trail once buttressed with foliaged arches
no longer a quiet refuge
brittle leaves in the coal dust underfoot
each step rustles these premature bones
a creek a well a desperate hope for rain
the distant memory of silence
once I dug holes in red sticky clay and filled them with fascinations
small gnarled twigs old rusted bolts fragments of shell
stories I heard from each of these I also threw in
with my commonplace dreams everyday hopes ordinary loves
I once tried to show them to her in shy offering to gain a brief smile
my dirtied hands were pushed away then I dropped my gaze and left
quelled by the holes that became her eyes
though roughened by sickness and age
my voice remains a guide rope
she clings to from afar
while buffeted by tumultuous circumstance
lacerated by inner rumination
sometimes I wonder if this will hold
if her fear will cause her to let go
in between our calls I strengthen knots for better grip
she talks and I listen
choosing any words in response with care
the space that I offer rests on kind awareness
a reminder that someone knew her, continues to do so
remains with her
then and now and here
then and now and here