Sant Jordi #24

    After the Hail 

          for Pep, 24 years later 

The apple tree died while I 

was gone, its bark stripped 

and fallen back to the pot, 

the largest one on the terrace.

Stark, nobby branches choked 

by equally dead morning glory 

tendrils hold sacs of seeds 

stiffly in the April wind. 

Both dead things remain 

to train the thick nasturtium 

stalks with their wealth 

of perpetual sunset. 

Opposite, the barely salvaged 

pine tree pushes its newborn 

needles towards the sun. They

follow east to south to west. 

Among all the dead branches 

in sunburned pots bursting 

with wild garlic, clover, asparagus, 

the surprise of this tall purple iris. 

 🐍🌹📚