top of page

Apricot Tree Poem

The Apricot Tree

In the fullness of time

The fruit have swelled

And fallen to earth

With a thud plump

They have waited to be picked, plucked

Held up to the mouth and


Tongue probing

Past soft downy skin

To sweet juice

The tree gives of itself

In its sun ripening

Birds, humans and other beasts

Gorge themselves

Fat and sticky in the heat

The harvest will soon be gone

Branches full of suns

All falling

To dark horizons and

Another year’s turning

Amanda Claire '22


bottom of page