Avocados Fall: An Ode
The opposite side of the forest trail was where they were, scattered like billiard balls on the topsoil, mostly intact and untouched by animals. The perfect ones without splinters on the skin were under the ferns, nested and shaded in the mulch-hummus. After the rain the floral biome of the forest releases its perfume to activate the ripening process of fruits and the wild pollination of their successors (this is an environmental science fact). The sweet chemicals that hasten fruition and color is a necessary perfume-effect after the deliverance of water; it is an absorption that blooms for the food cycle process, and for the lucky hiker, an invisible emanation that taps the nose. There were other stone fruits and edibles at feast— strawberry guavas, ginger honey suckles, and river berries. The bounty of the rainforest grows on you. But this is the story of the fall. Why were they in pristine condition? And why were they untouched? Where were the birds, the hares? Why would a fall from so high be saved? True, the moisture in the forest is a spider’s catchment. But… a magical thinking. From the slope of the wind, like a kid sliding on? Anti-gravity drop when no one sees, in this dimension the fall is not a measure from a height placement but a flat synchronicity? They did not break at all, these green, shiny eggs on the mosses of hollow ground.
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