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Stephen Nelson

The Orchard

A river runs behind the garden centre. To get to it, you have to pass between a small orchard and an open cottage. In summer, an army of ripening fruit.

pear tree boughs
to pear tree boughs
to pear tree

Spreading out on either side, wheat fields play the wind, wide wings unfurling. We stop and listen, compare the sound to water, call it crisp, crackling. On the path along the river bank, you wonder how far we can go. Unusual berries grow on bushes I've never seen before. You point out single trees on the hillside, distant and solitary. Sharing secrets, this feels like a turning point.

finding
your place:
alone with Jesus & Tolstoy