Pear Tree

Moon-bathed, and fragrant with Spring

in her branches, she wakes to

find no watchful sun, 

solitary.

This independence, a freedom,

far from those who would

take apart her petaled splendor,

climb her to take an unripe fruit,

or snap her twiggy fingers,

because they have the strength.

Under starry veil, she finds

comfort in the waxing light that

coats her with verdure, and hums

a melody claiming 

solidarity, 

and though she first despairs,

the illuminating wisdom

now permeates 

into her roots,

her blossoms, 

resplendent luminaries.

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