PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Once upon a time I lived across the street from a pomegranate tree who hung its most fruitful branches over the neighbor's fence, as if to provide the passersby, if not with a meal, then its sheer beauty alone. I was sprouting avocado saplings—three thriving beauties—at the time and often brought them outside into sunny rays to simply stand and socialize with. I liked to take them out in the moonlight as well, especially for the ambiance. Meanwhile I harvested dozens of pomegranates. I immediately learned, by a kind of compassionate intuition, to not forcefully rip the fruits from their still surging source, because that means the tree isn't quite yet ready to give away its babies, it also hurts the tree, and signifies an unripe fruit. If you cut an unborn child's umbilical cord, the child is killed and ceases to develop toward its proper potential. You could imagine how this occurence might anger the mother. Yes, I am hinting at wrathful plants. The karma of harm goes both ways. In affect, unripe fruit is packed with a kind of poison. Thus I would gently check whether to pluck the pomegranates with a little wiggle. Anyways, as you may know, they are a tricky food to get into, so I would wait until I was in my kitchen to collect all their seeds at once, which is pretty hard work, but very well worth it. Then I delighted myself in savoring the scrumptious, frugal rubies and fed them to my beloved kombucha too. I did this daily and soon found myself in absolute awe as I studied the glorious pomegranate tree. I was overwhelmed. I even convinced myself it was a dinosaur.