Arbor Day

Adjusted Small-Potted-Pear-Espalier

He resembles Alfred Hitchcock
as he trundles his topiary
up the hill. Leans to
the burden. His ass
bobs Up. Down.

He rests. Shoulders slump.
Turns; gathers his jacket of black silk.

I am made.
His eyebrows lift
at my appearance in his lane.
Brows crinkle. Wide rictus.

Abandoned. The thought leaves him.
Face slack as the lake on a calm day
He vanishes. I am alone with a
marvel of the orchard.

Delighted. I gawk.
Heavy oval fruit. Branches bow
weighted. Luscious limbs.
Compelled. I approach.

Reach to caress terminal leaves.
It unfurls to me.
My hand caressed.
My body embraced.

Wonder surges.
Affection wafts pollenating.
Fogs my senses.
Tears trickle my cheeks.
I’ll be damned,
I am loved.


Heaven knows where these things come from. This poem was a very intense dream that tunneled itself into my consciousness the other morning and awakened me and would not let me go. I suppose I was celebrating Earth Day in advance? Or perhaps I was reversing the fate of Eve in the Garden of Eden?

My photo illustration is a composite of images from flickr creative commons users vosburg_09 and  Dean Croshere.

Jericho

BW Jericho Image

It is all I have ever wanted,
to live in harmony—in a peace
that vibrates,
a palpable resonance
through common people.

as in ancient times,
aligned harmonies
break down walls
with the horn blast
of humanity. Trumpeting
divinity of tramping feet.