The lawn is littered with inedible fruit
dropped from a tree too tired to bear.
Insects wreak havoc on worn, cankered bark
the wasps feed on discards, taking their share.
Once magnificent, she bore a full yield
bushels upon bushels, apportioned to all…
I still can recall the sweet smell of perfume–
of pastel pink blossoms, blooming in spring,
and the tiny wrens nesting in the house on her branches
with their resonant melody… how they did sing!
Next year we know she will have to come down
we will mourn the loss of this kindly old friend
who provided such succor for many a year
seems all living things truly come to an end.
© Ginny Brannan 2020
Image by author from 2014
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.