A Discreet Cherry

Tomorrow is my first day off in fourteen days. A kind of delirium overtakes me. I could have spent hours picking out produce at Aqua Vita... spreading swiss chard, plump cherries, snow peas like fallen leaves curled together... After languid lingering and a ginger cookie, I decided to visit the Olive Tree. My mind needed to wander freely in its branches, without the distraction of my refrigerator & things left undone & the objects of a particular life. So I swung up her trunk & she graciously held me as pages turned & turned within me, like a book left out in the breeze. And the full moon sprayed silver from behind wisps of cloud.

Scenes of our meeting drifted through my awareness: "I came to request that you retract your accusation." After a long silence, I said, "The alchemy that has transpired within me is beyond blame. I have no wish to rewrite anything." And ultimately, faces in hands, foreheads pressed together & silent, the moon blessed our well wishing.

Down from the tree and back to the fruit. Blood and cherry juice must be kindred spirits. The couch sucked me into a deluge of cherry flesh and slippery pits. One split open on my fingertip and I had to finish what I'd started, smearing cherryness all over my arms, watching the sugars glisten on my skin, juices dripping between fingers. A reminder of the possibilities hiding in each discreet moment.