Yesterday and today the wind was blowing so fierce. My heart felt sore: afraid, and lonely.
Today, I saw the first ashmead's kernal apple had fallen, golden and warm. I took a slice, from this tree only planted a couple years ago--it was my first taste. OH MY GOD I felt like I never tasted anything so delicious though certainly I have; still, at that moment I felt so.
Here is the poem that has come of it all:
sweeping my ability
to help those I love
out of my control and away, farther, disconnected.
You are blowing my capacities
into some distant dream.
You are flailing my confidence,
and my faith
to scattered bits.
Then, I am
flying with you
hair going wild,
voice cackling, screeching,
I gather the bits I still need,
let the rest blow,