Aggregate Fruit

Curled ’neath the boughs of the juniper tree,

The bright rays dance 

Entangled in an eternal trance.

’Twas the willow waking free, 

Wrought with duty, misty rest.

Sun grows red as robin’s breast.

Amber hues grace bark that weathered be.

The union of truth and belonging made

Doth echo ’round the blazen glade. 

A panoply of virtues doth slumber; can one forsee?

Grow anew! Strong and bold!

Bountiful with gifts of old!

Sticky sweet coffin striped bright with yellow wrapp'd bee.

Let not the fallen fig fruit weep,

Sow juniper, yet purple hope decayed you reap.

~B.N.