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Article: The pear tree. (Poem)
- Article from:
- The Antioch Review
- Article date:
- January 1, 1994
- Author:
CopyrightCOPYRIGHT 1994 Antioch Review, Inc. This material is published under license from the publisher through the Gale Group, Farmington Hills, Michigan. All inquiries regarding rights should be directed to the Gale Group. (Hide copyright information)
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The jewel called citrine is yellow. And so are my pears. And so is the eye of the crow. No, that is not right. Now I remember. The crow's eye is black, like his feathers. Not red or yellow or gold. And the pears this year
Are green and misshapen. But you can see this for yourself, Pears like the organs of chickens, plucked for cooking. The rains did them in. The rains came in early, bringing The cold, and the crows came soon after, squalling and fretting,
A hundred crows, a thousand, day after day, too many To count. They set up house in the elms by the bog And now the yard smells of dogs. They bring the dusk In early. The little pears can't hold it off. ...