Cherry blossoms sometimes curl, dry, and fly away
Plans crash amongst the tides despite our calm agendas
Who said there’d be no wicked winds
What sacred book of days ever promised perfect
We arrive and pass this way on our way to leaving
Fruit and blue-green golden hours coursing through our veins
Realigned my soul
Would that all who’d seen fit
To have been unkind to me
Have their childhood wounds healed
Here, look from my window
Flower and vegetable gardens
Fruit tree and fire pit
Baseball, my love, baseball
Sweet plum
Sharing berries
I delighted in that
Like a bear, you’d be eager
There was ease, nothing forced
Your burly hands gently receiving raspberries
Blueberries beckon you morningtime still
Because The Apple
How would the rodents speak
What words would they say
“Yes, you, bring berries to your back yard
And all manner of citrus and apples alike
Fresh, full with fructose, on these barren of days
We planned well for the season
The Winter in May of the Spring
Evidence our good-faith actions
Our holes in diligence dug
Where we find once again, our daily bread
While our feathered Southern friends, oh!
How they need, need, need your hand
We’ll let them dine
We promise”
Fleeing from the bramble
As though they feel they must
Forsake the soft of the fruit
For the wind in their wings
LisaRosier.com 