Solar Days of Fruit

Solar days have come and everywhere there is fruit
little round suicides of morello cherries and damsons
spattered on the pavements.

High above the city haze, the lemon tree on my balcony
gifts one bitter sweet moment
with a sudden tang it dawns on me
I want to live well and long
to grate zest and breathe citrus.

My sun sign is sanguine, the vine
I loll under is heavy and the wasps
for their sins are too drunk to spoil this.
A glass of water sparkles
cold and fresh.