A quince tree

A quince tree-

        into its dark pruned vase of sticks

        the parcel of sun.

        Leaves

        to paper-folded perfection

        start in sharp splades of green

        crease from blind nubs of bud.

        Black wings

        that seize on the season

        blossom

        on the blackbird's throat.

        Fanned iridescence

        riots to its yellow beak

        works at a coiled spring of harvest.

        A song

        that believes in the tree

        and fruits

        in gold

        from the branches.

 These poems are from my new collection IN THE APRICOT DARKNESS (view the cover and contents below in my recent posts). They are now being published individually, daily under 'recent posts' on my blog and will be available shortly as an eBook that can be read online or downloaded for free.