|
| |
The Almond Tree Blossom
You tasted spring’s young almonds green;
sweeter than vestal nectarine
then all your innocence is lost;
forever to the wind is tossed.
The seed you planted long ago;
time will see it ripen and grow;
as the summer sun slow unfolds,
the carapace no longer holds
Fall harvest fruit is eager reaped;
upon a bride and groom are heaped;
Young virgins take them to their bed
to dream, foretell, of whom they wed.
When the end is near, as foretold
and the winter’s dark, bitter cold
makes the future labored to see
each year blossoms the almond tree.
Copyright ©
Terry Miller
|
|