The Orchard

The Orchard of femininity Fine day sun and sky, I walked in an almond tree orchard the scholars call it a deciduous bush and the learned has no artistic sense looking for a Latin name like the tree would care. It is peaceful here a feminine place, and no one shouts “Get off my land you, arsehole.” The trees are dressed for the ball getting married to spring, and since they are equally beautiful no competition. When deflowered they will be pregnant and bear the fruit called almond; not yet, though, they will look lovely a few weeks more before taking up the burden of motherhood as yellow wildflowers nod in harmony.