Frost on the Apricot Tree | Poem

 

Frost on THe Apricot TRee
 

Wild Bees are shaking petals off THe Apricot TRee
roaring through bouncing branches in THe Sun
THe ground will be White—more certain than first snows
 
               One numb Bee-of-the-Night-Spell
               shivers on a stiff twig
               THe Dusk hath come
               Popcorn TRee—untimely Christmas TRee—
               is quiet as lace behind window’s glass

In the darkness—there is unusual light
Flowers at night—sleigh without bells under a blank Moon
yet fairer than hayfields bleached by Winter
or even Her own Eastern fruit—
Is the seedtime sweeter than harvest—if the fruit is but a pungent
                                            dream?

There will be nothing from blossoms wintered by this one night

                                                                  Hill-Place
                                                                 May/1980
 

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