Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser
The bittersweet vines hung there, in the trees,
by the dusk-cast river, orange berries bursting
I understood bittersweet.
Sometimes we walk in circular paths that
make what is new seem so familiar,
sometimes, because it is.
This is our challenge: to distinguish reality
from mystery while never choosing
reality over the other.
You know what it is like when something
that lived a certain destiny becomes something
else entirely because it was loved in
a certain way.
That’s the nature of all things. Or, it could be.
When the sun set, I knew that it was still there,
on the trees, but I walked away anyway.
There is a dear, dear sweetness in that.
© 2017/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Plant Songs" (a work in progress)
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