Dear Earth

by Simon Pettet

Dear Earth
Each one late
Each one no longer producing
cheerful apples

in cheerful gardens

no longer whole
no longer fecund
what will I do with you now?
Dear Earth
How now will I woo you?

Poem (“and how does my lady wait?”)

and how does my lady wait?
O she waits with a stayed soul
under arrest
trapped and unfairly held
It is a prison, this absence.