Ripening

I am ripening, now, in an autumn orchard,
Still juicy enough to make cider
Both tart and sweet, I hope.
Not ready yet to drop into the dry
Wheat-colored grass to wither.

How can it be that October is almost here
Yet my mind’s full of March madness,
April’s indecisions, still fluttering like
Pollinating bees around the
Important questions?

And wanting some days to have
Been a tomato.