Orchard

The manicured garden With fountain spouting Brilliant light, gives no sense That the wood backstops An orchard beyond. The couple run, almost slide, Down sloping green. She, faster than him, Cuts through the wood, Ducking low hung branches, Bursts onto the Orchard, which slopes upwards; He sees her fleetingly, Among the apple trees, Then disappearing over the Hill’s brow. Breathless he’s up there too, But where is she? She’s scaled a stone wall, And walks along a path Towards the sea, Stopping by a structure, Swirling with runic signs; The sea below glitters, Like an uncut diamond. Whew! That was a rush, He says, joining her, Then leans against, The stone column: I’m quite thirsty now. The sunlight flashes Through her flamed hair: Take this, she says, Handing him an apple.