For Dakota and his mom

THE FRUIT FELL RIPELY DOWN

Fox-child

of the old pretend

I know

where you go

when the moonlight

bends

in the trees

and the trees come alive

in the night.

I followed you

again

and saw

old branches

lift and gesture

in a winter-dance

in that forgotten

orchard.

Fox-child,

your sly smile

lit the dark

where no life grieves

and the music

clapped

its broken-fingered

leaves

and you, an acrobat,

gamboled

in such a hungry

pleasure

that old lucent ghosts

of fruit

fell ripely down

to taste

your laughter.

~Joyce Odam, Sacramento

Image from Photobucket

Poem from Medusa's place