The Fallen Ones

I am trying not to be distracted by joy.
Thank God for Lily-dog making me walk.
People pay money to feel like this,

yet I want to stay on earth.
But like The Wizard of Oz in his hot air balloon
I don't know how it works.
"Goodbye folks!" the Wizard shouts, waving.

Saturn's gravity draws my rocket closer,
so I wash my clothes and walk my dog and bake bread
to resist the pull, to fall back.

Francine wants to give me apples from her New Hampshire home.
Her neighbor's orchard has 300 apple trees
and the fallen ones are free
for the people
and the deer.