V  P  R

Contemporary Poetry and Poetics




The ornamental pear
Bursts almost overnight,
Its greenness interlaced
With whorls of cirrus white,

Five-fingered blossoms curved
To cup capricious air.
These blooms, the only fruit
The tree was born to bear—

Still pink-tipped, sticky fists
A day or so ago—
Too soon will flitter down
Like flakes of April snow,   

Confetti from a wedding
Swept up when guests have gone.
But now the bride, arms lifted,
Is dancing on the lawn

In her embroidered gown,
Ruched veil and trailing sleeves.
How did she hide so long               
Unseen among the leaves? 

Exempted from the Fall,
The need to be of use,
Resplendent in her prime,
Prodigal, profuse,

And holding nothing back,         
She tosses her bouquet,  
Made for joy and pleasure 
On the seventh day.

© by Catherine Tufariello


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