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