Fruit of Speaking, Tree of Life

A grove of wild apple trees
bearing fruit. Elsewhere in the landscape,
a grove of peach trees
every bit as wild
which will come to fruition
in its moment.

In the discourse of the peach trees
their peaches
refer to apples.
They speak of apples
and all fruits of Earth,
all sweet sentience of soil 
and soul.

When the peach trees first blossom
a scout
from a nearby hive
passes through the grove,
in and out and over the trees, in dialogue.

Honey bee returns to the hive
and dances a discourse, preaches a sutra
of peach blossoms
opening in the sky,
and the dance evokes the love of her fellow bees
who make their way to the sacred grove
by flight of mind.

Bees pollinate the flowers
by means of an intercourse
in which meaning moves
from flower to flower,
diligent wings of love,
generosity of nectar,
subtle hues of consciousness.

In the grass of the grove
a snake moves without guile.
She wears the color of danger,
or is it a mimic?

Snake moves naturally
flicking her tongue, listening
to interlocutors riding on air
like Valkyries,
virtuous in their intimacy.

To what do the molecules refer?
And the pollen, the peaches,
the dance of the honeybee?
Can fruit refer
at all, and if it did,
would it refer only to fruit,
not to bees,
not to Sun, rain,
Earth?

Earth interlocks with stars near and far,
and the discourse sings forth storms,
oceans churning,
arrangements that replicate,
insects that see,
plants that bloom in sense, humans
eating fresh peaches and singing out
symbols and sounds
like ambrosia flowing,
nourishing and natural.

But the humans wonder
at the self-references of human sound
without turning a single set of eyes
to the self-references
of grass
whispering in a grove of peach trees.
If communication depends on two things,
with whom would the grass converse?

When Snake told us to take the fruit,
she was trying to point out the obvious.
Instead of truly looking,
humans ran and hid,
confused by their vulnerable bodies,
ignorant of their naked heart,
afraid of the wild mind
that called to them
like a voice from the sacred landscape
in all its mysterious aliveness