Overcast morning, cool and grey.
The white cat bends low
to drink from the swimming pool.
I bend to snip off
a few dead twigs
from a miniature orange tree
with its miniature oranges.
In an hour I will talk
to some students about a poem
I wrote over 30 years ago.
I think I will start off
by telling them about
the miniature orange tree
with its miniature oranges
in a terracotta pot by the pool
and just go from there.
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