By Madison
Date: 15 February 2000

The Valentine Orchard

Fast behind the frost 
of February,
she carried home a tender tree of 
unborn blossom, 
a living Valentine.
Young leaves brushed the tinted 
windows as she drove - mulberry, 

mandarin, or cashmere cherry.
Keepsakes of the heart 
bound to eager limbs, 
bare and impatient to begin. 
He dug each year through 
rock and shallow soil 
with a blunt and rusting shovel edge

until a gathering of trees 
danced before a drapery of sky, 
like a clothesline strung 
with pastel sprays 
flanking sunset and soul.
White bloomed the Manchurian; 
peach buds sprung like 

ornaments in the night. 
It was not a secret garden,
but a lovers' Valentine;
a legacy for two that multiplied 
every second week 
of every second month
every vernal season of their lives. 



M Madison
14 feb 2000