In the garden’s embrace, a scene appears
A damson tree with branches laden, bowing low
It wants to tell a story
About its ripening fruit with its purple glow
A fruit ready to leave its tree
Its skin smooth with a velvet touch
Waiting for us all to pick
So all can enjoy so much
The harvest time is now
To part from branches with no fear
We can pick with a steady hand
Knowing next year the fruit will reappear.