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An Ode to Apricot Trees

Oh Apricot tree so overgrown
I watch you produce both night and morn.

First blossoms are born
they look like popcorn

Then the small green fruit toots it's horn.

Spring and summer through rain and shine
I watch you grow and wish you were mine.

Fruit starts to ripen
Ye old tree grows lichen

Success at last--on you I dine.



I doubt I will ever be a poet!















I will also never be a photographer and yes, the Mt. Dew is crucial to the puree....