.jpg)
Sport 40: 2012
The feijoas are falling from the trees
page 363
The feijoas are falling from the trees
The feijoas are falling from the trees—
a fresh bag-load every day.
Winter is on its way.
I am in the kitchen
shucking feijoas like oysters—
filling ice-cream containers to freeze.
Won’t it be nice to eat them in July?
Rory is a good man, who hates feijoas.
I see a strong gust outside
and I imagine the sound of a feijoa falling.
Crashing into branches on its way down,
waiting to be plucked
from the leaves and soil.
Winter is on its way.
I try to think of how I could earn
more money; work harder, get ahead.
There is never enough
and it would be nice to get ahead.
I write a list of all the things
I need to make—
stewed feijoas, feijoa crumble—
another gust: feijoa cake.