Overripe

Clear across the field

I see some overripe plums

falling from the tree.

Impossible

under cherry trees

how impossible it seems

to choose the wrong way

The bowl of water

does not sense its own wetness,

nor the twig its leaf.

On mere potatoes

they are feasting this evening

in Van Gogh’s painting.

the peach tree blooming

only in my memory—

a fruitful silence

trying to make sense

of the spider’s broken web

and the crushed egg sac

scarlet tanager

your brilliance causing the oak

to burst into flame