The power of any dark fruit.
Large purple the egg plant.
Hangs down,
over the fence within your reach.
and in your palm up and down
being tossed.
Heavy in thought, each now only is.
Being windy
and the branch that they hang from.
You know it is less, but some extra care.
One has fallen and split,
and white seeds now,
are strewn about every where.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lol what a wonderful picture you paint iip? lol I guess we scatter our seed because we have to, to keep producing such succulent dark fruit. How we do it, is our business. Smiling at you Tai