The Spoiled Fruit

At dusk they met in a garden green,

The dark of night rendered them unseen.

The light emitted from the heavenly body,

That night the Mother’s cries were bawdy.

The cultivation of their love did bloom,

And thus he plucked her scarlet plume.

At this she laid her head to rest,

Pressed lightly on his uncovered chest.

At dawn the empty bed of grass did show,

The garden amassed another hoe.