almond trees

The pink is drained from the dusk.
One feels the valley blue, as much as sees.
Body senses waken for the night.
Driving through the gauntlet of blooming almond trees,
White in the dark, the heart wins out. Tears are purged
For a country perversely bent to war.

Michael Irwin, 62, acupuncturist, teacher, Poet Against the War