Night watches with a tender eye -
The bare boughs of a fire tree
outstretched in agonies of anxious waiting;
For the tiny spark that shall inveigle
the flaming blossoms, soon to dress
Its shame faced nakedness,
In the tell-tale finery of May
That some shall smother
Writhing boughs, with blood drenched petals
Taunting an uncaring sky.
November 1955
- but truly only mortals
are impatient...
Nature knows the art
of waiting!
Copyright 2008
Lourdes Pena Goco
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/transition-16/
