The Pomegranate Tree

Seasonally in our Mexican courtyard  there is a tree full of granadas.

I’m blooming glad when they appear

and brooming sad when the last few clinging represents soon there will be nada,

Not just because I love their precious gem-like ruby cells

Eaten individually or in a jell

but it means for months I will have to sweep the blasted leaves below

Where above the fruit used to longingly dwell.

 

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