Behind my house, sweet Pretty beckons me
with leafy swaying arms, and I succumb.
I go to where she stands and hear a hum.
Examining the heart of her, I see
a swarm of bees that hover happily.
For what she has, they eagerly have come,
and blossoms burgeoning now give them some.
So common, yet peculiar is my tree. . .
She ought to be a willow, so then why
does an adornment of pink blossoms show
on only graceful branches hanging low?
However, her top limbs are poised high.
That other half is reaching for the sky
and wearing charms of white like flowered snow!
July 11, 2012
For Craig Cornish's Sweet Contest