Overnight

Apples have appeared on the old tree
Fingernail sized
Though nature keeps a closed book
And fruit cannot be hope.
Last night I dreamt
Of friends long gone–
We were beside a lake
Together in sadness
And someone said “Odysseus.”
Small apples.
Emergent green.
Nostalgia means
Returning home in pain.

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by skuusisto