Pear Trees on Irving Street by Richard Widerkehr

The Writer's Almanac by Garrison Keillor

They float, these white trees—
a few petals, fallen
to the street, not stars fading,
not snow.

The trees have blossomed
in a freezing east wind.
None, I think, has any regrets
or choice.

If the night frost
comes too thick,
too fast, they’ll give
what they have to,

as if it were nothing—
these clusters,
held not by black branches,
but their own buoyancy.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017