Friday, May 26, 2017

A Lemon Falls (Day 128)

A lemon falls.
My grandmother boils it.
A cougar waits out the heat.
She came to me in a dream.
Mine or hers I don't know.
Waterfalls and lemons fall.
Grandma rolls the hot lemon 
with the heel of her hand.
Under a tree in the cool dust.
She squeezes the warm juice 
and pulp into a coffee cup.
Water falls from pointed leaves 
high up in the eucalyptus trees.
After adding honey she settles 
herself on the edge of my bed.
The drops sound like footsteps. 
She feeds me the lemon syrup
a few tablespoons at a time.
At midday the baking dust 
smells faintly of pine resin.
Then she sets the cup on my 
nightstand and lays her cool 
dry hand against my forehead.
Fog shapes pass like quiet people 
outside our lace-curtained windows.
Her smile is like the rising sun.
It soothes me.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

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