Efi Hatzimanolis #67 The Fried Egg Tree

while the front garden’s very last flowers of summer are dead or dying, 

the fried eggs of my most generous tree begin to appear,

and when they themselves fall, landing, without fail, sunny side up, 

everywhere and anywhere, draped over the shrubs, the ferns, the tall grasses,

or snagged by the spider webs and the roses' thorns, 

all the barren plants of winter together with the fence suddenly bloom alike

in carrying the donated eggs of the excellent franklinia axellaris