I wanted to write about the trees as
They seem from the eye of a time-lapse,
If a time-lapse could count the seasons
In seconds, and remove the nights.
The pear tree would stand in the garden
With draping fruit-bearing branches.
Poised, not slouching against its trunk
But diagrammatically silhouetted by background sun:
Now imagine the tree trunk transparent,
A rare treat. And the earth, at a cross-section.
And for three seconds the tree will suck
And up the brown earth with rise.
And in the second second you will begin to see:
Little drops like stalactites,
That will burst into flowers and wilt
Then like a tap droplet that grows and grows
And grows until a pear-shaped pear will hang.
The veins of this tree flex every three seconds
And suck like a breathing body,
Then like an icer – one who ices cakes,
The tips of the tree will ooze out iced fruit
That mouths in that same second will catch.
Then one second remains.
One black frame in which lying leaves will dissolve
And darken the ground, and fill it up.
Ready to be sucked up as the seconds tick.