Beyond the ridge of my window sill
stands a young lemon tree, still
unbroken by the wind. Above fly
sparrows, gophers run below. By
the tree's trunk are ripe, fallen fruit.
The wind slows down, all is mute.

*The more I study the sunflower,
or the lily, or the rose,
the more fully I see their station:
subtle expressions of nature's power:
the unending repose
opposing human consternation.