The spring blossoms coming out now,
moving sugars out of the ground,
remind me that I no longer have fruit trees.
The deer and birds ate the tiny orchard
I had once planted.
Now I have a few ornamentals.
One is budding awfully white this week,
down by the noisy road.
Ornamentals are for noise
and fruit for silence, I suppose.
Silent trees with no peaches,
no plums, no apricots.
Noisy trees with fantastic
bees and flowers.
The wind has been carrying
the white blossoms. I wait
all year for their startling delicacy
because no fruit is coming,
and now look: the cars and trucks
whirl them about under heavy black tires.
Tom on This Hand smilecalm on This Hand LuAnne Holder on Portal Tom on Portal LuAnne Holder on Portal
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