I let my hands travel
over the layered trunk in winter
and stood breathless
under her blooms in spring.
Carried home a handful,
wrote in their company,
returned in the rain.
I cried hot and bedraggled
tears falling to join a carpet of petals,
the blush of pink at my feet.
Flowers lost forever.
Weeks later, she called me back
in an early morning mist.
Overwhelmed in my wet, green boots,
taken with her swelling,
witnessed only by the forest edge,
I asked a lonely question —
she answered in fruit.
Even in the fullness of these days,
especially in the fullness of these days,
I seek out my desk.
I seek out my desk and
I slip away to catch the light.
I turn around and find it, everywhere.
Even when the day is overcast,
the clouds are heavy,
my pants soaked from the long grasses,
my boots like puddles inside –
light like an abundant secret
The colors seem especially brilliant this year with all the rain and overcast skies.
More so than any season, in October I feel I’m like going out into a new landscape every morning.
I find that I want to spend as much time as I can outside, even in the rain.
I want to tell you about reaching up
into the apple tree
to pick a wild apple,
when a shower came down from the leaves
and a drop fell on the corner of my right eye
and rolled down my face —
a single tear.