Persimmon Sunrise

Planted on autumnal whim Several years ago, Small persimmon tree awaits; No expectations contained Within its slighted branch.

Absent signs Of life sustained; No fruited bodies Hide in future spring Upon this bare brown stick.

Summers bring Warmth and crystal rain Times sweet call Paints sunlit leaves Again and again To silent cause.

Dormant lay the trigger To spawn the orange seeds Sent round circle’s arc, In tension sings The loaded spring Unwinds.

And one morning Frost upon the drying earth There upon the fated stem A single perfect fruit is found; Small miracle of design; Youth to age, Bitter to sweet Promise kept.