Return to Earth.
So this is autumn,
I did not expect the smell of it,
I did not expect the softness of it,
the length of it, the going-onness of it.
When they said the leaves turn red in the fall,
I thought they bled, a short sharp haemorrhage
of leaves and that was all.
I have worked in ships where people queue
to view, twice monthly, the sunset hue
and planets where it comes and goes
so quickly only the iron mosaic knows.
Here each tree is like a hundred alien sunsets
rolled into one;
the golds, the purples, the yellows,
the soft pinks as the evening mellows
and then is gone.
Did my ancestors weep when they had to leave?
The genetic mutations of Adam and Eve. ©2014 June Birch
Inside Outsider Publications.