The Orchard, Two Poems

{{#ifeq: | | {{#ifeq: Justin S. (Whiteflame) | |

   {{#ifeq: Whiteflame | || 
     Author: Whiteflame  
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   {{#ifeq: Whiteflame | |
     Author: Justin S. (Whiteflame) |
     Author: Justin S. (Whiteflame)  
   }}
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 {{#ifeq: Justin S. (Whiteflame) | |
   {{#ifeq: Whiteflame | | Authors: ' | 
     Authors: Whiteflame 
   }} | 
   {{#ifeq: Whiteflame | |
     Authors: Justin S. (Whiteflame) |
     Author: Justin S. (Whiteflame) 
   }}
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}} {{#if:| — see also [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}

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<poem> 1. The chirping of birds Makes the orchards ripen With the sweet fruit Of tender days Long past, And the soft, fluffy ruffle Of a squirrel’s tail, Flick figitingly through the air, And a cuckold, a cuckoo, chuckles, Laughing at the earth’s sky, An apple falls upon my brow, Oh, and only a few steps more And I will be standing Where Newton once sat.

I smile. Under the sun, and the shade of the tree, All of life is blooming.

2. I guess this all is fine, But I wish That I Could speak With the birds. Their aria is beautiful, But their speech evades me, And there are no subtitles On a songbird’s song.

Oh, pity upon me! Oh, wretched self. I only can sing the notes, Harmony for a gorgeous, yet fleeting Lyrics. </poem>

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