The Gift of Strawberries

 You were reading Robyn Wall Kimmerer

And Monica Gagliano
And your brain was changing
You talked to plants more and more
And sometimes you kissed their leaves

You started to ask permission before taking harvest.

You were at your friend's house
Her husband had put petrol in the diesel ute
They were short on money
She was sobbing in the kitchen
You watched her daughter play with yours
And gave her space.
The girls ate carrots
Using them as spoons for hummus
Snapping off the green tops
It had been raining for days.

When she was ready,
she came and sat near you on the lounge
You rested your head
In the curve of her shoulder
Neither of you said anything
Silently you asked for magic.

Then she unfolded everything
The gulfs of misunderstanding
The undercurrents of pain
At not being seen
Confused interconnections
And once weres that felt lost forever
The push and pull of human relationships

And you talked with her.
Looking over her grief
Like a bag of rubies
Bared out on a table
Ready to make beautiful jewelry from.

The rain slackened
Her garden stood in rows
Chaos in order
You wandered between tomato and apple leaves
Bursts of clover and selfseeded lettuces
A blue tongue lizard
Taking advantage of the momentary sun
Sunned its copper body
Her skin like malleable metal
Beaten into golden diamonds.
A sign.

You both stood above her.
Gratitude in a growing ecosystem
Then you moved on.
They need space
To not live in fear

But you knew the magic was coming then.
The red currants announced themselves on the final bed.
Their redness signaling
A sign post
You looked down
At your feet.
An involuntary squeal of glee.
There was a carpet of strawberries
Bright red and a little hidden
Under green leaves.

And then the magic unfurled
Into giggles
And little girls stuffing their faces with
Sweet red things
Alternating between currants and strawberries
Red stained lips and fingers
You and your friend ate
And saved some for later.
Sitting in pathways with wide mouths
And happy bellies
Fingers fossicking
A tray filling with red
They ate their fill.
The afternoon's dismal spell was broken.
There was no time in that strawberry moment
When your friend turned away from the beds,
And she saw the lizard was gone.
Vanished as if through the fabric of reality.

And then the rain closed her curtain on the scene
And you ran back inside
Kids trailing reluctantly after.