Nature teaches nothing is lost.
Spread between rows of beans,
last year’s rusty leaves tamp down weeds.
Coffee grounds and banana peels
foster rose blooms. Bread crumbs
scattered for birds become song.
Leftovers offered to chickens come back
as eggs, yolks sunrise orange.
Broccoli stems and bruised apples
fed to cows return as milk steaming in the pail,
as patties steaming in the pasture.
Surely our shame and sorrow
composted by years
into something generative as wisdom.
Posted by kind permission of the poet.
And the body is holding its losses like a fist. And a fleshy hope is…
We can’t believe our luck: to have found this pair of pears on the ground…
When the light around you lessens And your thoughts darken until Your body feels fear…
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