Ground Cherries

I sit at her table
and eat ground cherries
she peels their lantern paper skin
makes little stacks of pale orange balls

She's almost ninety years old
her skin is translucent
like the tiny fruits
she carefully opens for me

If I listen long enough
I will know what nourishment
has held her up so long
and makes her rise every morning

I will learn
how much deeper
we need to go
to find succulent fruit
in what we assume so frail