Update with Pears
Daily I touch and smell the hard, green pears heaped
in my red enamel bowl, watching for signs of ripening,
imagining the juicy sweetness of grainy flesh.
As morning dances across my anticipation,
I am grateful for this final gift from our dying tree
reprieved for another year from plans to cut it down.
But with branches withering, early fruit drop, and
splitting trunk, its core now blackens with decay.
And yet, one last bowl of luscious fruit.
These days I am more open to the truth of aging
and impermanence. All that can be lost will be, but
let me find equanimity and lightness in accepting.
Let me rejoice in the invitation to become sweeter.
Marilyn Baszczynski, originally from Ontario, Canada, lives and writes in Iowa. Her book, Gyuri. Poem of wartime Hungary, was published in 2015. Her poetry has appeared in journals including backchannels, Gyroscope, KYSOFlash, Midwest Poetry, Slippery Elm, Shot Glass, Tipton. Marilyn is Editor of Iowa Poetry Association’s annual anthology, Lyrical Iowa.