Garden of Poetry

There was an orchard on a hillside,
Like some sweet oasis in a hay field,
And a rutted track of road to divide
Jurisdiction, and separate yield.

A boy wandered, instilled
By the crisp-biting scent
Of cool luscious jewels – thrilled,
Through heaven on earth went.

There was a robin’s nest,
Built in a season’s rent,
On an apple tree’s crest,
But with no inhabitant -

Abandoned on a fledgling’s whim to wander
Off to see the wide earth,
All universal mysteries to ponder,
And weigh a single apple’s worth.

Perhaps, intending to return someday
On a one-way ticket,
A bird lost its way,
Caught in some thorny thicket.

To any experienced fool made wise
By retrospect and regret,
It comes as no surprise
To find a bird flown far away, yet

Longing for a nest in orchard trees,
Riding out the sway
Upon a pear-scented breeze,
With no inclination but to stay.

Frost glistens on apples and pears,
A little past harvest time,
Twinkling magically, shares
A bit of alchemy’s rhyme,

Wages reason to keep any reasonable sort
Standing there year after year, waiting,
Abiding no other sport
Than the ripening of delight, never abating.
 

~ Daniel F Mitchell