Garment of leaves          

Heart like an apple core --

that’s where the seeds are. 

People take you for a lunatic

but it’s just the inner thunder

giving you that far away look,

(as Adam must have looked,

gazing back across the garden pale),

impeding nimble strides and coherent speech.

What’s a man’s gait anyway,  

but a limping away from his destiny?

Or smooth talk if his seeds are stone?

The crooked path he follows

can only lead back to where he began –

the garden in the chest.    

It’s all there in the core – root, leaf, bark, fruit;

soil, water, sky.  Time makes us think

the apple in our hand is ripe and ready

to sink our teeth into.

O child of God, shed that garment of leaves.

Venture naked into the new world.

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(image by falco @ pixabay)