— Mei-Mei Berssenbrugge, from her poem “Scalar” (from the collection “A Treatise on Stars”, New Directions, 2020)

Joy Sullivan, from “Culpable”, Instructions for Traveling West

The plum you’re going to eat next summer doesn’t exist yet; its potential lives inside a tree you’ll never see in an orchard you’ll never see, will be touched by a certain number of water droplets before it reaches you, by certain angles of light, by a finite amount of bugs and dust motes and hands you’ll never know. The plum you are going to eat next summer will gather sugar, gather mass, will harden at its center so it can soften toward your mouth. The plum you’re going to eat next summer doesn’t know you exist. The plum you are going to eat next summer is growing just for you.

IT’S THE GREENING OF THE TREES THAT REALLY GETS TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!

Mari Ruti, “When the Cure Is that There Is No Cure: Melancholia, Mourning, Creativity”

bathe in your own sunlight !!!!!!

Jean Hersey, from "The Shape of a Year," originally published in March 1967

Mary Oliver, from "Worm Moon" in Twelve Moons