Art and Craft 2018: 6

Primavera

I wanted an orange, and love
arrived in the garden, dressed
as a bride out of time. The grove
was all wind and gods: Gauzy virgins
dancing their patience. A tangle-gown
alive and hopeful, like the ivy
that embraces outfield walls
at Wrigley. Love again the sweet
seedless orange, no proof
of the blade or graft that grew it.
Lie and say love is a season
that must come. Not a reach nor harvest.
Not the thousand wildflowers
we trample to reach its tree.

after Primavera by Botticelli.