The trees have grown here for a hundred years, and are still quick
to trust that the frost has finished. Some springs,
pink petals turn black. Those summers, the orchards are empty
and quiet. No reason for the bees to come.
Other summers, red apples beat hearty in the trees, golden apples
glow in sheer skin. Their weight breaks branches,
the ground rolls with apples, and you fall in fruit.
You could say, I have been foolish. You could say, I have been fooled.
You could say, Some years, there are apples.
----
I still have yet to come up with an adequate piece of reflections for the whole new mysterious- mission-impossible agenda.
First week and a half of work has been interesting, it feels like I've been working AND schooling for a very long time. I feel OLD.
Many more weeks to go!
Now I understand the woes of working under an unpopular person. However, it has perks because everyone sympathizers with you, and when you share stories, they laugh and add on to it.
Contemplating posting cryptic semi-poetic facts of reflection and keep them guessing.
Urgh. It's already 0248hrs. I was suppose to be asleep an hour ago after saying goodnight to Syahir. Probably the one and only guy that will layan me at odd hours now. H dont even give a hoot these days. Despair is not the word. but.... okay. Let's not get there.
Work in a few hours time. and then school for Socio presentation. Wish me luck.
Need loads of it.
Goodnight!
N.
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