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Elegy to a plum tree

Preamble: it took the death of a friend to push me into at last trying free verse, and quite frankly it makes me nervous.

Decades proud

You were of this land long before the moving bone-bags appeared

claiming paper-thin possession.

Still, generous to a fault, you shared the profits of your growth.

I wonder how many generations you trained

in the art of pick-your-own?

Lips on g...

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