July King

From the corner of my eye

A circle the color of wine

Silently hanging, waiting alone

Gathering sweetness, holding on

 

Last year they were loaded

Plump orbs dangling precariously

Our arms reached to the sky

Feeling for soft skin and blush

 

White flowers broke winter's silence

Sweetly anticipated, first signs of spring

Hastily we pruned back their growth

Shaping them to catch rays of sunshine

 

It was up in this tree, years ago now it seems

Filbert catkins brushed against my cheeks

And I noticed a bird's nest

Crafted in a crotch, rocking with my movements

 

The fields called us out of the orchards

Our attention drifted to harvest and crews

I searched for those orbs

And sullenly found but a scattered few

 

The survivors grew bigger

Green ornaments still hiding amongst the leaves

The cherries came and went

While they hung on another week

 

Afternoon plum

Juice down my chin

Floral and sour, sweetest relief

July King

 Glorious plum

Glorious plum