Your fruit are rotten
But your flowers are sweet
In the spring and
Your shade in summer
But for a few weeks
Every year you stand
Naked and alone
In the cold nights
While the moon and stars
Fit you out with a whole
New plan for yourself
As a mast with sails
Or a raft of limbs
But every spring somehow
When we’re not looking
You come back to us
Your flesh-colored
Flowers first
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