The Falling Pear
Sometimes I feel like a falling pear.
Circles of sand slowly embrace me,
as I sink in the soil… it is warm and fertile,
humid and thick, but still pink and grey.
I surrender to the serenity of my fall from the sky,
as eventuality takes over futility,
not longing to be caught by any branch or hook,
just dropping, loose and light, swinging among the clouds,
With no intent, past or conviction.
I have long been yearning for landing,
since I saw you standing in surprise,
herons rising tall from the pond,
anteaters wearing their wings to flee,
and waves pleading me back to the sea.