The Apricot
& The Lemon Tree
at the edge of the village
come to an oak much older
than me
that’s where I’ll seek
advice
– Kit
Kelen
tenant 1 planted the couple
while tenant 2 and 3
nurtured their growth and
here I stand, tenant 4
before their arthritic
leaves & brittle branches
unlike the owl and the
pussycat they are stuck
too close and deep rooted
with a stubborn sense
of belonging to a land
they’ve failed to interpret
once gardens were ballrooms
of sweet & bitter
fruit throughout Melbourne’s
Northern yards
expecting Mediterranean
weather to migrate
now these replica orchards
are starving for genteel
seasons, expecting to be
washed with lukewarm
hose each night, even when
sky drizzles or sprays
with no strength to stretch
their arms to the sky
no plump, sun-kissed balls
with juice for birds
& jam, no smell for
fresh salads of crisp crunch
they offer a time-warp of
cravings & nostalgia
in the back yard, encircled
by concrete and brick
ignorant of the tall
bottlebrush on the nature strip
by Angela Costi
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