by ZAKIR GOWANI
Image/Top News
Orange day
Warm, cooked stones underfoot; a fire’s whispers
The Sun suspended, a blot of mashed fruit stamped on the sky
Juice trickles down through fluff and blue to soak the people in sweet heat
Toasted life; closed eyes see black light
Silent stalks stand, embracing dirt
Cool, watchful; precious guardians of nature
Tree trunk homes, leaf hotels, bush cities
Protectors of the unseen:
Little crawlies that trudge surely past stomping feet,
Frightened prey with glistening pearl eyes,
Invisible hunters with deadly tools
Always watching, always waiting
Glorious orange day
Packaged into goods by children of nature
Borne into fruit by those who linger; the silent watchers
Life that remembers
Many orange days have gone into this fruit
The messengers chirp its arrival with glee
This song is not for you, they say
But I savor the taste of the day, anyway
It tastes like fruit just picked, crackling with flavor
Skin that bends for a moment, under the pressure of animal teeth, then rips
And spurts out sunlight
Tangy yellow beams, they tickle the tongue
The essence of nature, orange days one after the other, all dribble down your chin
Swallow the culmination of life’s work;
Its silent and repetitive compaction and conversion of feeling into living
Light into sugar into life into sugar into life
Warmth into food, food into warmth; bread baked and root boiled
The bounty of the day
Swallowed into a cycle of consumption and deposition
All the while, the children of nature watch
Silent, respectful, admiring of the flavor
Secretly working at a rhythmic pace
Paid daily wages of bright beauty
Allowed to appreciate the day and claim it as their own
What will tomorrow’s colors bring?
Zakir Gowani can be reached at editor@globeistan.com