After the soonest days of sky,
days of sunshine, moonrise, city
opens to its crescent —
a tidal awakening —
shivering at night’s touch,
blooms.
An alignment of Ares and Aphrodite
erupts in the seeds of pear,
in fig —
blossoms.
Between fronts, their petals are
charged with fullness, with emptiness.
Their perfume is richly of absence.