Apple blossoms stretch
As if waking from slumber
Their fragrance
Here
Conjures home
I wonder if I will remember this feeling
When late summer comes
And my teeth sink into crisp-pale flesh?
Will skin turned golden carry any reminder
Of the pink flush of Spring?
Perhaps if I write a charm
Words to say (like these?)
They will hide themselves in the sound of apple snapping
Ready to emerge (like a butterfly)
As some wistful feeling to take me back
(And forward again)
There
Here
I’ll meet myself
As I was
And will be
And each of me will know
We are home