35/52: a meditation upon meeting the wizard at the grocery

I saw the wizard in the produce aisle
but it was Tuesday, so he was not wearing his usual robe
the one with the stars and moons.

Nor was he wearing a top hat and tails
that would only be appropriate on Saturday night.

Nor was he wearing a long brown traveling cloak
and of course he did not have his staff
with the raven carved at the top -

it was only a trip to the grocery store
not into the wilderness where wild things speak
in a language older than time

and whisper of the true forms.

He was picking up avocados and gently squeezing them
in the palm of his hand.
He smiled when he saw me,
"You know they're ready if they yield
with just a gentle press.
Anything will yield with enough force,
so you have to learn to know the difference."

He replaced one and took another, paying me no more heed.

That was wizard talk, I knew,
for something.

I nodded, considering the meaning of the ripeness of avocados
as I made my way through the cereal aisle,
pausing occasionally to pick up a box,
feeling the give of the sides between my fingers and wondering
what might really be inside.