Persimmons are like words.
They come when the season is ready.
THIS YEAR NEARLY EXTINGUISHED
Winter Solstice, 2012
Light crackles dark, dark gathers
whispers at the rim.
Season assumes perfect
shape. Pomegranates/persimmons persist
in cerulean bowl among the unseen, calm.
Why now does she recall Grandmother saying,
“More circles than boxes in this world, child.”
Striking a match
what does she now know?
one actress plays all roles.
Certainly the ripe curves.
Perhaps, new pages to be turned.