Orange Blossom of Expectation

Citrus evergreen sparked with white
belies sap run thick with doubt.
Branches, conduit of dread
sustained dirges of night frosts
& dim winter light
until only the rigid trunks of hope
can bear the return of ripe & heavy fruit.

Season-sculpted by carriage past,
erect still in the silent anatomy of expectation,
content with the modest shadows they cast
& diet of sunlight & elegant dew.

In this orangery of beings insensate
to their own heavenly scent,
of flora non-native, nurtured, nursed,
of wildness pressed & pruned
into civil scent & calligraphy,
praise-teachings, sweet as wounded memory,
are of seasons’ past, present & future suspense.

Not discovered, not anonymous
this miracle, this trifoliate reopening
remembered as to him she must,
bending to the burdens of delight.