Dream Dancer - Sue Kelman

Watermedia and Collage
38 x 30.5 x 1
 
The First Orange Persimmon Leaf
by J. Elliott
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Autumn in Florida is so muted, I planted pear and persimmon trees to contrast the oaks and evergreens, to remind me, ironically, of my youth. I’m in the autumn of my life but each year, that first orange persimmon leaf transports me to: 
    Halloween costumes, shh-shh-shh sounds of feet through leaves, flashlights, voices, laughter, the mulchy, woodfire air, the pillowcase dragging with candy Tootsie Roll pops, Chuckles gummies, Almond Joys, my favorite!  I’m freezing, tired and frustrated with my costume failure – my mask is falling over my eyes again. Where are we going? Yes! That house looks promising! I hope they have Reese’s peanut butter cups. 
    My first semester on the Cumberland Plateau where my ears took weeks to adjust to the altitude. My heartbeat and breathing louder than people’s voices. What if my body can’t take this place? Will I never adjust? Leaves so glorious yellow against the azure sky, against the oranges of the next tree and the ruby reds of the next all waving together celebrating the season of Samhain. I ache with the beauty. Mountain of Majesty indeed! Divinity is here. October, Homecoming—bands in frat houses, campus writhing with activity, need more party beads? Groups of drunk people staggering on the sidewalks laughing, music pumping, magic, darkness, exhilarating, scared. Feel so alive. 
    New York City Gingko trees so yellow, so exotic, so happy line my street, flourishing out of the concrete Central Park! Truly magnificent! I have my Sony Walkman on. Free from college. Me! Laverne in the Apple! I love my short boots made for walking, perfect heels, I strut and dance to Cat Stevens because I gotta let it out! Best hot cocoa ever on a snowy night in the Village in a coffee shop called Dante’s watching flakes fall on bundled passers-by. Fireplace reflects orange and red on the ceiling like an impassioned aurora borealis. 
    Kyoto in autumn. Vermillion torii gates and orange leaves. Orange fruit dangle like ornaments from bare branches. This, dear, is a kaki: persimmon. To this day, kaki comes to mind first. Sweet beyond peach or mango. How had I never had one before? Sunday temple hopping and hikes. Feet so cold my toes get chilblains! How can leek and chicken soup taste so exquisite? 
    Recent vivid dream. Autumn in Japan again. Dark tree bark accentuates the explosion of gold and vermillion foliage. A simple wooden hut. I approach. Up steps, turn right, entrance through the gift shop. Dust covered display of religious trinkets: statues, amulets, bracelets, prayer beads. To my right, a smiling elderly obasan in an ocean-blue kimono waits for me. A ticket turnstile behind her. Beyond, an immense, glistening, golden amusement park that reaches to the heavens. I hear distant music, cheers, and laughter. I don’t have a ticket. This. Is Nirvana. Heaven. I am at the gate. I weep with the impact.
“May I go in?” 
“Not yet,” she smiles.
I woke with wet eyes.