The Orchard

Amanda Natasha
Sep 8, 2018 · 2 min read

My fruits were ripe
Too ripe
On the brink of rot
I lay hidden in plain view, but forgotten
And in his nomadic travels he lost his path
stumbled upon my roots
Parted the weeping branches

I sensed his savage hunger
He feasted on my fruits like a ravenous animal
He Cracked open their soft fissures
Allowed nectar to weep
Upon him, his fingers, his mouth
He emptied his need while in the midst of me and then vanished

A generous orchard
I lay waiting for his harvest
Again and again He came back to me
He fed, he rested his weary head onto soft heaps of leaves
I ushered the dew drops into his mouth
The choral crickets sang him to sleep
The breezes caressed him as he slept

I watched over him
Memorized the angles of his face
Learned the language of his body
Nourished him
Dawn came and he was gone

In his absence I dreamt of him
Who was my visitor when he was in the world beyond my branches?
I imagined him taming the seas
Writing timeless stories
Entertaining countless lovers

I wished I could exist in a different way
To be with him always
But orchards can’t be nomads
It defies the root of what we are

I remained steady
In my devotion to him
Accepting my purpose as his place of refuge

One day as the sun pierced through the treetops
He returned
The daylight gave his face new life
He inhaled the sweet fragrance of ripeness
He passed his fingers along the trunks of my trees as if saying hello to old friends
But this day he tended to my flora
This day he stayed

Amanda Natasha

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Yogi•Foodie•therapist•lover•horticulturist•nude photographer•amateur chef•pigaphile