There are days
when
summer and winter
seem to
reverse –
unwind the flowers.
You close the door.
Knock as though
dead limbs and
leftover pollen
will answer.
You wind your way
through
the orchard
as if
you were a ghost.
Haunt the underside
of trees, unwind
their roots.
You become a memory
of God’s silence.
Leftover bees
pollinate
your skin.