Bedtime Snack

Well. Here I am. Again. At the grove of existence. Eating a Granny Smith apple, experiencing the bright, sharp tang, and noticing how if you press it between your tongue and the roof of your mouth for a moment, a honeyed sweetness seeps around the palate. How pleasing it is, when two distinct flavors can create such a sublime bond. As I cut through the firm texture, light notes of marzipan and almond linger in the air, with a reminiscence of red berries. Incisors doing their work to enjoy the juices of nature. Underneath the surface, a white flesh balance of goodness. An unseen field of energy flows, from the root to the tree, to my hand, to my mouth; the harmony of it all. The order. Ah, the excellence in its rawness. Though to my awareness, what a perfect partner for richer, more savory ingredients. Granny taught me how to bake, after all. If only Smith ever cared to stay for dessert.