Another poem of summer
APRICOTS GROWING WILD Sweet, sweet, wild fruit in the first heat of the day in the desert... Cool and sweet, unlooked-for treat in the desert morning, an oasis... Nectar, glowing, sweet as light, and chill, from the night... Cool and sweet delight heralded by wasps drunk with pleasure... They do not sting, I do not kill... Sweet truce in the first heat of the day in the desert. 1986 Sign in to see full entry.