Apple Blossoms

One evening in winter
when nothing has been enough,
when the days are too short,

the nights too long
and cheerless, the secret
and docile buds of the apple

blossoms begin their quick
ascent to light. Night
after interminable night

the sugars pucker and swell
into green slips, green
silks. And just as you find

yourself at the end
of winter’s long, cold
rope, the blossoms open

like pink thimbles
and that black dollop
of shine called

bumblebee stumbles in.


Apple Blossoms, by Susan Kelly-Dewitt


Extra: can you spot the hummingbird that was zooming around while I stood under the tree taking photos? There was actually two of them, plus several bumblebees and a mourning cloak.