Holy Week: Perfect Love

XV.

What cracks the husk
so that hope pushes its green head
up to the light,
and frail threads wend downward
to mine the rich dark decay
of yesterday’s life?

K. Ashby

ksignature21

Previously:
Holy Week: Nature Tells the Truth

Next Year’s Fruit

VII.

No, leave that one on the ground.
Don’t be fooled by the ruddy lustre
captivating your tongue’s imagination.
It looks like a crisp bite,
a mouthful of firm flesh and sweet juice.
Turn it over. See where the taut skin thinned,
failed open to marauders.
Leave it. Let it nourish next year’s fruit.

K. Ashby

KSignature2