magic

Magic is not anything you have to do.
Or even be.
Magic is an ancient tree
bearing perfect persimmons
hanging from her branches;
leaves turning pink
in the setting sun of autumn.
Magic is the way
this tree has been cultivated
by careful custodians
for hundreds
and hundreds of years.
Magic is how
the origins of this tree
have traveled from deep Asia,
to the Powhatan people of Virginia,
to my mothers garden.
Magic is collecting
eleven pounds of persimmons
Alone
on a Thursday
and the vibrant lovethumps
that travel
from my heart
to this Diospyros kaki
for what she provides me
and all of history
every October
when she fruits into being.