The Orange Tree
Malcolm Yeary

A feeling of knowing, without knowing why,
Drops down from flowers
And hangs from fragrant skies
Upon buzzed excitement of unfrozen hours

Dangling nectar of delicious fruit
Ripens and waits for the mad pursuit
Of ravenous bees, the true creators,
Snatched from God’s fingers into Darwin’s craters

Sweet buds to be, keep ravishing me.
So, I loiter the petals of that seductive tree
And lick at the lovely pleasure
Of long withheld sumptuous treasure.

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