"A sequence of events"

by Lianne Olive Hennig

A golden pear baked in the sun,
Cool juices filled its curves;
From a strong, green stem in the wind it spun
~ sweet fibres were its nerves.

A wild gale blew and shook the pear
Until it loosely swung,
And the branch whereon it grew was bare
~ from one fibre the pear hung.

Shadow clouds blocked out the light
And radiance from afar.
The blind pear trembled with acute fright
And wildly sang for the missing star.

Between the branch and fulsome pear,
Ghost spiders wove their masterpieces.
A huge fanged moth came forth to tear
A hole in the pear and suck its juices.

A glint of sunlight peeped through a cloud,
Frightening away the gorging moth,
And juices oozed forth like ambrosia blood
Making crystal droplets on the spider cloth.

A gust of wind frayed the fibrous thread
And the pear crashed to the ground,
And decayed there, as do all the dead,
And all death-bound…

In time, a silver tree shoot sprang
And pointed to the sky.
Within its heart old memories rang
That made the tree shoot cry.

The pear tree, stronger, grew and grew,
And rose upright and tall.
It tried to pierce the clouded blue
And reach the fiery ball.

In time, it bore its own pear fruit
And lost them to the ground,
And realised the cycling route
To which all pears are bound.