And as the days began to lengthen
the pink blossomed against the pale blue sky
and I spent quiet hours under its dappled shadows.
Young and free.

And while the summer's heat took its toll
its heavy branches drooped almost to the ground
and made a darkened cocoon of security.
Contented calm.

But as the first fruits voiced their presence
and swelled until they over-proved themselves
and plumetted to the ground,
Rotted, rotting,

the wasps rejoiced
and I lost my innocence.