October lemons, green as limes
merry yellow by Christmas time.
Hard rinds wind round from ground to roof
through sizzles, drizzles, weatherproof.
Without its fruit, a twiggy bush,
20 feet high, but not much lush,
body spreads unshaped, branch tangled,
structure grows with awkward angles.
Reminds me of the Peanut’s tree
a kind of homely plant we see,
that beautified with decoration
becomes a source of admiration.
When nature’s ornaments turn ripe
juicy bulbs, hooking bark, glow bright.
Teardropped leaves become angel wings
fly with lemons that scent and swing.