The emerald and still evening
lures the crescent moon rising,
to make a small peach tree shine
as if it were already daytime;
it even invites the brutal wind
to lash it so that its flowers
would lose their pretty petals...
then one of them starts to descend,
others sadly follow behind to resemble Autumn leaves...
who has sympathy for a small peach tree which grieves?
The enchanted, star-draped sky
watches the white petals fall off the small peach tree
into the lake that earlier reflected its flowery image;
isn't it enraged by the wind's ravage?
Its anger can last until the deep shadows wane and die:
that's when light will restore harmony.
Written by Andrew Crisci
for Gail Angel Doyle's contest,
" Petals In The Wind "
on 1/ 15/ 2012