Where Blossom Does Not Fall
by Dominic Cuthbert / Elisabeth O'Neill An overhanging tree lets loose its fruit And, like a jewel set in metal, The apple is fixed in earth. The honey bee flies drowsy East to its hive. It tastes the flesh that has fermented, Forming a kind of cider. A woman looks through her kitchen window At the bare branches of her acacia tree And finds it unfamiliar. The dead wood Does not flower and cannot bring the bee. Next Page
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