Grandfather's Footsteps (Mushroom Picking)

4am, looking for specimens, tired of modern stories 
and their modern endings; veiled in first light, 
calm and swift as an easy running stream; 
he wonders if they bleed? Fruit inflating, 
body spreading, his arms lift and fall, 
stripping meridians, the veins of his hands 
blue as old roads. The light filters 
him into who he is meant to be again, 
like trees swung onto sawhorses; empty 
skies and silence, the harvest he came for.

ALI JONES is a teacher and writer, living in Oxford, England. She holds an MA in English, focused on poetry in domestic spaces and has written poetry in a variety of forms for many years. She is a mother of three. Her work has appeared in Fire, Poetry Rivals Spoken Word Anthology, Strange Poetry, Ink Sweat and Tears, Snakeskin Poetry, Atrium, Picaroon Poetry, Mother’s Milk Books., Breastfeeding Matters, Breastfeeding Today, and Green Parent magazine. She writes a regular column for Breastfeeding Matters Magazine. She was the winner of the Green Parent Writing Prize in 2016 and has also written for The Guardian.
The Adirondack Review