After waiting all summer
for the pears to grow sweet,
he was called away
by a friend’s slow death,
the week the fruit turned yellow,
a double loss.

Now the trees are thick
with blossoms. Bees swarm
their boughs. The sky glows
yellow. Life goes on, he knows,
like an avalanche of rotted fruit
scattered in an orchard.

Like old blossoms
assuaged by new blossoms.

David Coy has two poems published by The RavensPerch in June. He is a retired Professor of Creative Writing from Arizona Western College. His poems appear in Slant, Magma, Antioch Review, Moon City Review, Manifest West and other places. A new book, “Madame Fieldgrove’s Feel-good Tarot” is forthcoming (Elik Press).