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Plum Tree

By John I. Blair

Twenty years ago
I placed a baby plum tree
Into a hole Id dug.


I watered,
Watched, and cared
For that tree.


Five years no flowers,
No seen reward
For all my work and time;


But then it bloomed --
A few at first, eventually
A rare cloud of white.


Bees swarmed
Each spring, feasting
On sweet nectar.


Now and then
Small fruit formed,
Ripened, dropped to ground.


And once or twice
A new tree sprouted
Underneath.


Plums lead short lives;
In 15 years mine died,
Succeeded by its children.


Yesterday, my birthday
(The 80th, but whos counting)
The dead tree, tall, bare,


Was taken down,
Chopped in chunks, then tossed
Beneath a nearby hedge,


There to wait decay,
Disappear beneath the soil,
Return to whence it came.


A shame its not that easy
To care for us as thoughtfully.


2021 John I. Blair, 6/22/2021


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