Holding Space

Would that all who’d seen fit
To have been unkind to me
Have their childhood wounds healed

Here, look from my window

Flower and vegetable gardens
Fruit tree and fire pit
Baseball, my love, baseball

Fruit Nut

Sweet plum
Summer’s crown jewel
Ripened
Smiling, still

Though ghosted
Chipped away at
Hollowed out
Cut in two

Bitten off, but not spit out
For I remain
Saucy
Thus, your favorite fruit

First Of All

I am not God
But I know a truth
So I will say what

Let us recreate Woman
What the divine image!
Be she blessed

Let us grant her dominion
See these creatures
In need of a fruitful goddess

Let us know her abundance
Let us call her good
Let us rest

A Wild Meander

I don’t want to hear the morn’ coming in; stay at bay.

At my pace, I’ll share my fruit with the wild; bid good day.

When the sun seems warm enough, out I’ll go; come what may.

Truth is, creatures know I can’t resist them; so I stray.

Need

How would the rodents speak

What words would they say

“Yes, you, bring berries to your back yard

And all manner of citrus and apples alike

Fresh, full with fructose, on these barren of days

We planned well for the season

The Winter in May of the Spring

Evidence our good-faith actions

Our holes in diligence dug

Where we find once again, our daily bread

While our feathered Southern friends, oh!

How they need, need, need your hand

We’ll let them dine

We promise”