Plums
From dark-brown bare bones, blood-red garnets swing.
Green jade leaves spread their ballet-dancing shades.
In storms, these garnets, to twigs, tightly cling.
Knit with tender stems, these look like cockades.
Their prism hues shatter like topaz blades.
I see, in plums, calmness and tranquil growth.
How they valiantly face wild nature's wrath!
These little fruits hold divine elegance.
Never one could see in plums any sloth.
Each plum is a celestial resonance.
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