Rural Cherry

I've witnessed more chromatic blooms

Which laurel every day,

More orchards blessing mouths and eyes

Of those who pass their way

Yet still the climate of my land

Forbids the fruit tree's yield,

The Sun too cruel for sweeter things

To flourish in my field

I wilt alone in wooden pew,

My mouth filled up with dirt,

And dream of days where cherry juice

Drips freely down my shirt

Psyche.

epigenetics