O, how I wait for you to be fruited
In plump, shiny, purple orbs to be
Plucked and delightfully popped.

Please cling plum blossoms!
Tree, do not let go in the stiff breeze
As you have done year after year

To the point where you were only good
For lovely birds to roost, for feeders to hang,
For me to look upon your beautiful form.

The years before you gave no other fruit;
This year a plum, that one, maybe two.
The greedy children ate three this past year.

I look out in the light of a spring morning
And you are full of lacy white!  Cling sweetly!
Stop being so selfish.  My mouth is watering.