THE ORANGERY TREE

grew

through roof of glass

to Mavor’s room

who pruned it once

and tenants bed, bent-

boned

The breeze steals

in

the cold

an orange, sporadically

leaves

that green the sun

 

They tend me

mending

less

and less

My cross

grown orange

glints in

companioning

And yet

there’s something wonderful

to lean outside, in spring

the overfoaming white

and the sound of the sea

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