ORCHARD

walking in your garden
on your ancestral land
the old orchard
calls out to me

in stark contrast
with the well-kept
everything else
it stands out with its scruffiness

the closer i get
the more uneasy
something ancient and wild
sends cold shivers down my spine

yet its calling
is irresistible
demands to be witnessed
won’t let me walk away blind

barely visible
between the knobby, twisted
overgrown branches
an elegant fence closes the orchard off

used to, at least
because now it is the trees
who enclose, engulf, the wrought iron
separating it from the rest of the garden

what does “overgrown” mean
i realise
that this is just what these trees
were supposed to look like

free from human care
and its shear
they finally reclaim their space
i can almost hear their liberated bodies sing

huge and dark and wild
these outer trees unsettle and attract
with their million outstretched hands
greedy for more life

overcoming my fear
i walk past the dark and bony hands
perfectly visible
between the shiny leaves and lush fruits

an arcane urge
wants me to go touch the iron fence
pay homage to that testimony
of humanity’s need for enclosure– and beauty

and suddenly i see
revealed to me like a dream in a dream
the perfectly intact and pure heart
of that ancient orchard

how straight and clean
these rows of trees look
and how trimmed and balanced
their branches and crowns

nothing of the dark crazy
wilderness
of their outer brothers and sisters
they look perfect and pristine

gorgeous to the human eye
yet lifeless to the wild eye
they have been kept away
from the fertile and crazy freedom

of the margins.