Saturday, October 7, 2017

OctPoWriMo Day 7 - Pear Shaped Confession

I plant the tree
the way one does
pour hopes and dreams 
into the hole 
along with water 
stake it straight 
fear the locusts rising 
fret as sudden squalls 
bend her almost in two

the years whirl by 
mulching pruning
occasional caress 
when no one
is around to see me
hugging a tree

finally she blooms 

I choose which 
small fruits will be given 
the chance to grow full-size
fret again 
stink bugs 
hurricane winds

the summer 
whirls by 
it is time

tree, I did not know you would be a lesson

hope for beauty
receive frankenfruit
misshapen lumpy 
mottled sick faced green
almost leave them 
on the tree 
to rot

but I cannot 
waste five years
so I pick the fruits
hide them away 
to ripen 

a month later 
I cut into them 
with reluctance 
find perfect flesh inside


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