Poem for her 954

Trees

The city house was getting some new things

Trees

The little row of them between here and there

The ones in the back fruity

Soft plums from our stock in the woods

There were pears

Some other kinds

All grown from our own stock

You had those gloves on

I had painted the backs of

Spring flowers

And sunshine

I started filming you

You smiled

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.