as it fell—
the honey-seeking, golden-banded,
the yellow swarm
was not more fleet than I,
(spare us from loveliness)
and I fell prostrate
crying:
you have flayed us
with your blossoms,
spare us the beauty
of fruit-trees.
The honey-seeking
paused not,
the air thundered their song,
and I alone was prostrate.
O rough-hewn
god of the orchard,
I bring you an offering—
do you, alone unbeautiful,
son of the god,
spare us from loveliness:
these fallen hazel-nuts,
stripped late of their green sheaths,
grapes, red-purple,
their berries
dripping with wine,
pomegranates already broken,
and shrunken figs
and quinces untouched,
I bring you as offering.
by H.D.
Orchard is the title of this colorful verse by a poet new to me ~ Hilda Dolittle (1886-1961). Her Imagist style sent me running for the Pantone photo I carry in my pocketbook, the one posted above.
They seem to talk to one another.
Without knowing
they are related
and
have adopted me.
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