Windfall by Laura Trimble

Profligate mash all over

your knobbled feet

        what you meant

for fruit the wind has given

back to your own roots

        as steaming 

             mulch

Don’t fret it whispers

through your hair with

fond fingers  Don’t

you think it

       fine this gift

             I’ve made you

Laura Trimble writes, bakes, and gardens outside Portland, Oregon. A former high school English teacher, she now homeschools her three sons. Her writing has been published by the Rabbit Room and Humane Pursuits and appears on Instagram at @trimblepoetry.