Wild Food
I am the edible plants growing wild in the fields, nettle, sorrel, patches of dark green wild garlic.
Or I yearn to be.
Trapped in crates, on shelves, in aisles, there is only the ancient memory of foraging.
Apples, berries, chickweed, dandelion. Burdock, plantain, citrus, aloe vera.
A bounty of reds and greens. Orange, blue and purple.
I dream of woodlands and flourishing fungi. Charcoal Burner, Penny Bun, Lion’s Mane. Jelly Ears, Slippery Jack, Hen of the Woods.
And too of nuts. Almonds, Beechnuts, Walnuts. Butternuts, Chestnuts, Hazelnuts.
A forest garden versus the monotony of monoculture.
When did wild become a pejorative? An antonym of civilized? Savage, dirty, scary, unholy. Backwards. A hindrance to progression?
When did wild become something other than just a normal way of life?