A Voice By The Citrus Orchard Poem by Nero CaroZiv

A voice by the citrus orchard of deep green
The echo of summer morning din like it has never been
Oh, silence beautiful holy voice
Be still, calm for you only trouble my fatigue weary mind
With joy from the past in which I never could or can rejoice
An infant childhood I never did find
Yet still, now again I will crave to hear you more and more
For your sweetness honey hardly leaves me a choice
But to rush to the meadows and blooming fields and fall before
Nature feet in lea's trodden grass with fierce odor to adore

My morning now arises fretting, stormy and pale
No sun, but waning dim glare
Layers upon layers of hue less clouds
And the iron cold budded peaks of the apple trees are bowed
Caught and cuffed by the cold breezing gale
And the wet trail upon a bough of a lost snail

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