In the pomegranate tree is beginning
To worry me a lot lately
I mean I’d have to get a ladder
And right now I can’t be bothered
And anyway is raining
I’d rather sit outside here under cover
And examine my nagging need
For perfection against this creed
Of the common sense of trees
That keeps their dead branches
Safely tucked among their green
This year the tree is full
Of burnished globes however
Few may yet prove edible
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