The evergreen and the deciduous yearn for one another’s company, To intertwine their vines as one again. Starved of touch and camaraderie, They age with April’s adolescent ache. Delay their reunion, I say. Let me pluck the leaves from each branch before they get chance. Paint them as burnt and iridescent of an orange, To confound the crowns of the trees, And the scents of the soil, So they surrender their seasonal resurrection to you. And bow quietly, they will, To your garde

The evergreen and the deciduous yearn for one another’s company, To intertwine their vines as one again. Starved of touch and camaraderie, They age with April’s adolescent ache. Delay their reunion, I say. Let me pluck the leaves from each branch before they get chance. Paint them as burnt and iridescent of an orange, To confound the crowns of the trees, And the scents of the soil, So they surrender their seasonal resurrection to you. And bow quietly, they will, To your garde

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