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“Not fair!” it breathes, my faithful tree, under
Its honeysuckle crown. “I know,” I vent.
“Not my intentions, madam or sir, per
Any agreement with this land for rent.”
“I am told, once I am old, and gone from
Here, from Copper’s implanting, all my works,
To create a heart of growth will be bombed,
Debunked and plowed under – I am a dork,”
“To believe the Art of my Creations
Will last beyond, what has become my sign,
A masque of honeysuckle. I have won,
Prized; a stuffed form – my ultimate design,”
“Awaited beyond heaven’s Partial Gates.
To you – Pomegranate Tree -- I am fate.”
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Photograph by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 5/9/05
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