WITNESS
What chance performs the apple tree,
desolate and wiry, sagged as it is
with torment and ruin? It has already
shed its joyous fruit and even its bugs
have left. The elapsed time encircles
its face with north and wintry wind.
Should there yet be faith for more to
come? Better things, balmier, and wiser,
with a fragrance worth repeating?
Standing in the shadow (of something)
here blessed, I cannot for myself attest -
for beauty, presence, aroma and fruit,
they each must speak - in their ways -
for themselves. I, alas, am but a witness.
What chance performs the apple tree,
desolate and wiry, sagged as it is
with torment and ruin? It has already
shed its joyous fruit and even its bugs
have left. The elapsed time encircles
its face with north and wintry wind.
Should there yet be faith for more to
come? Better things, balmier, and wiser,
with a fragrance worth repeating?
Standing in the shadow (of something)
here blessed, I cannot for myself attest -
for beauty, presence, aroma and fruit,
they each must speak - in their ways -
for themselves. I, alas, am but a witness.
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