A Pear

A Pear

The observer, an old Chinese poet, invents
The pale green pear,
Sitting still in a jade bowl
As the poet takes off the crimson robe
Covering his dark purple clothes,
The pear changes color, changes contours.
If Basho were here,
The pear would be a green minnow
And minnow's pond, a silver tree,
But Basho died centuries ago.
Now, at this moment,
To this old Chinese poet,
This pear is her pale green eyes,
She who died ten years ago.


Duane Locke

Posted over on Electric Acorn