the scent of orange blossoms will guide me and the peel
of a grape may be deemed too thin, but it encloses
the softness of flesh, the outer & inner mesocarp, the sweet dream
of the migrant—
my grandfather over a field, surrounded by his sons
somewhere on the surface was a point of rupture
but I know there was a seed, too
it is spring again, the planting furrows will blur
as some drive past them but I see with clarity
where I am going
Decided to follow my gut and go to a place where I feel the rich soil and the open sky can help bridge the past to the present. the past, the present, and future coil over one another