Beatrice Hawley


Apricot Tree

I could lie on my bed
and watch on the white wall

the movement of shadow leaves
from the garden just behind the curtain.

I could not believe the source
was a tree that in the morning

and outside had green and sharp
pointed leaves - it was an apricot

tree and when the days were hot
the fruit would ripen and two golden

apricots would be set before me.
I never learned the connection:

leaf, tree, shadow, fruit.