I
I see everyday of my life spread
Before me like an orchard in bloom.
Each branch of tree, every bush and leaf,
A memory for me to consume.
In summer, when fruit is rich,
I tread the path for fruit to pick,
Indulging in the springful life:
The ripened fruit bringing delight.
But with each bite I enjoy
Something is destroyed.
Soon the spoils will reach their end.
II
I feel her touch,
Hands soft from love,
Stroking me,
Providing ease,
Like sliding through
Horizon’s stretch—
To a place where we
Would meet again.
But these moments fade
In solstice’s blaze,
Where the summers past
are lost.
Flowers wilt, their colours dampen,
Trees break on the orchard path.
What remains from winter’s wrath,
Where one has used so much land?
III
The sodden marsh engulfs.
The land itself falls.
The somme-like pit pulls
Into its hefty haul.
But past the glint of glossy eyes,
Lies a world where seeds survive.
We fail to see past lives once lead,
The growth thickening within our heads:
The weeds unkempt, vines in droves,
The bushes tangled with roses, broke,
So concerned for orchards gone;
We never made another one.
‘Cause the trees will grow in due time.
The fruit will ripen with more life.
An Eden will grow to replace
An age, to show, that we can change.
