In the park one autumn day,
when the beaten path could no longer contain me,
tackling the bracken upon the wooded bank,
I sought to learn what this would could be,
should we be at home with the Earth.
At the top, a beauty stood still
that only engages those who look for it.
For there was an orchard, left to time
and flourishing fine with no human to babysit,
feeling at home with the Earth.
With hearts of generosity and love,
a tree offered one of its fruits.
I accepted, and within one bite
I knew a world, not of concrete or suits
but one where I am at home with the Earth.
While I could have stayed forever,
surviving on the orchard’s labour,
the branches gestured to take a seed
that blossoms for a lonely neighbour,
so they can be at home with the Earth.
As they knew best, I made my way
through the thorns to return to tarmac.
For while I find no comfort here,
I know it only takes one crack
to plant a tree that becomes a home.
