Tuesday, 12 December 2017

next year, perhaps...

The apricots were bursting,
the tree, in its second year, bowed,
as if the gods were passing,
under the weight of tiny gold and orange suns —
the expanding universe fathomed
in the corner of a suburban backyard.

Then rain came, unseasonal, violent;
my watering mouth dried
as I watched those golden orbs
suffer in the rain, their bright fires
extinguished and they fell
one by one, rotting and useless…

This is how the universe ends —
with stars falling
into the rich loam of missed opportunities.

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