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Kallisti’s Promise

Here are apples on the tree
rain wet green without a blush
of the sun,
and the best fruits here
leave a stain to remember
them, long ago.
So far the blossom seems
beyond winter, flowers count
seconds with petals, the vestigial
future hides secret under leaves,
time remains to hang and grow
fatter and greener
being pulled down, wanting to
jump, to save us,
and catch the fruit as it falls,
every moment
it changes the further it
gets from the tree.
There is blossom on the tree,
prismatic with dew
and early light.

29 May 07

(define the words in this poem)
(5 more poems by this author)

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