The Fruit Trees

Something calls us to the sweet fruit,

the glowing round globes

golden across the field of thirty dangers

and you know none of them

until you begin to cross the field

but you will go

because the sweet fruit is over there

in the orchards

calling you toward it,

beckoning with sweet freshness.

The artemisia grows wild in the field

as does sacred datura.

They will stop you

and you will want to forget this world

for a while, then forget

even the round fruit

bending the branches,

so heavy with sweetness.

And then because you are of this age,

there are many memories

and you sit down to rest

as the clouds open above

and new water falls to earth.

If all this could cause you to love

better or more, it would be one thing,

but even that is passing.

Still, something changes in the light,

unfolding there

in the twilight of fruit

and through darkness, the morning

grows and you are still

just beginning

when you come across the fire ants

that can kill a burro.

Then the field of poison ivy,

the den of snakes,

but remember in our world

the Indian, not north, but south,

the world was created and held on four serpents,

the four corners each with its own.

If they scare you,

go past the far edges.

Soon the fruit may fall from the trees,

and by then the dogs have found you

and you have gone to the streets of thieves

to escape those wild dogs,

and by the time you find your way again

with emptiness for pockets

you must climb the rocks.

It seems you are older,

and with water to cross,

and the bees come closer.

They live near the place of flowers

and the sweetness of their labor

is part of the fruit you seek

so don’t harm them.

Now, from the hills the mountain lion may follow.

It seemed like such a small field

from the other side.

And near the water

notice the hummingbird nest in the willows.

It is small and made with soft moss.

You are on the right path

When you see it.

When finally you reach this fine place

where we grow fruit on trees.

The fruit fallen

is at the old orchard house

now with a soft mist rising,

the old blue place with cats

and the dog so protective.

Follow me and I will guide you

by the dark orchard

into the door of earth

through compost and layers of stone

down the steps with a candle,

one careful step at a time.

It is cooler than late summer earth.

It is dark

but you must trust the way

down the stairs

and it has grown darker,

so you will have to trust me

step by step, and isn’t it cooler down here

below late summer earth?

The old people told me once,

Sometimes at night when you think

there is an intruder in the house,

it is only the sound of the apple tree

blooming at the window

or the cherries ripening,

or maybe the garden when earthworms

come to the surface,

and I have heard them

moving in earth, seen them

doing their work.

Here there is nothing

but all sweetness falls,

and by the time you are present

the fruit is in bags and jars,

a hold against tomorow,

but when I light the lamp, just look!

Crystal, gold light, red jewel, all in glass,

each jar with a pale ring of wax sealing

the sweetness within. Even constrained

is it not beautiful, shining with light?

Now help carry the bounty back up the steps

and we will break bread, drink wine,

talk, rest,

and as we eat these fruits, share their wine,

honey on the bread,

the laughter of telling stories

about the terrible field,

I will know this world is always bountiful,

always abundant, offering us fruit,

wine sweetness, and even forgivenesss

for what our kind have done,

but first, let’s taste the new apples.