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
Eaten
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