When my pear tree is in spring 9/2004 What is a pear tree like this one here doing like a dewdrop setting out pearls of spring dearing to strike up appearances like this one does, right in this peart of the yard doing it too like it’s pushing its own untiring pearfection? Appearently there’s not much otherwise near hear to distort the eye properly or maybe not do it in the same impearfectly homogenized way, cascading around like that into this glory, this appearing like an eruption of heaven in our world, this sweet shout and rhapsody not cearing for anything in this whole universe except its own supearior image of white Beauty. When my pear tree is in spring (madrigal) 9/2004 When my pear tree is in spring then all will bloom so sweetly true yet see how everything so promised late last year is gone, and so will never come again. Let sadness reign in shadow but a moment, until these blossoms dance as sweet air does, and all I would in sorrow rue is hidden one more time in spring.

Poetry by William F. Buford Copyright © 2004-2007 William F. Buford. All Rights Reserved.