Autumn

The fields and gardens and roadsides are thick with fallen fruit. Plums and pears and apples spattered on the tarmac of country roads, ditches filled with the excesses of nature, a bumper crop impossible to harvest, destined for decay. The air is filled with the perfume of fermenting fruits. I am almost heady when I walk the dog. I can’t help but think, when the world is so filled with hungry people, “what a waste!”