Bent
Near to breaking
by her burden
of fruit, swollen with seed
In that thrashing by wind
Bearing down on the sun
in her labor—
of Need
to bear
the pain
to bring
her yield
to his hands—
her harvest
of warm juicy softness
Gone—
the upright
reach of untouchable spring
When stems, stern and smooth
wore a lace-beaded bodice of bloom
of coral chiffon
First leaves
a scarf
with a fringe of lime green
wrapping her gifted and lean
to the buzzing
She was lighter than dew
to the amateur insects
smeared with her
Her only accessory--
a robin
They had left
as evidence
they had ravaged
its song
Now broken and leaking
more damage endured
Ripe fruit in rough hands
He leans against limbs
by his weight sternly pressed
so suffused in the fragrance
of peach intoxicants
which he will have--
He is lost to his lust
He is forcing his need
into another year's beauty
asserting his claim over and over again
of that lost and ancient bounty
Many edits 8-16-18.