Last night it rained.
I hardly felt the drip, so tightly packed,
Firm ground kept parched,
No laughter in hard heart.
Today, I prune the branch,
Uproot foundation’s core with tender care,
Pinch back dead growth that
Saps away my strength.
Tomorrow, new shoot will grow,
Blossom forth honey sweet,
Sun as music to green leaves,
Attract both butterfly and bee.
Soon fruit will ripen on the branch,
Nourished by deep soil and Sun,
Water given by weightless cloud—
Soaking rain to please my thirst.
When you walk by in weeks to come….
Pick me, pluck me, drink my juice.
I’m yours for the asking, basking
Out on edge of branch, ripened by warm Sun.
Pomegranates, figs, pears or peach—
Squeeze me, caress me, then bite and taste…..
Rich flavored bounty for your feast,
My fruit like honey in summer heat.