The Tourist Looking Back

"They will outdazzle the historic sights,

like rows of brides

veiled in white."

I waited for years

to see blossoms ignite,

unite, the heavens

with the countryside.

But that year in Armenia

the crop was wiped

away by the winter

cold and blight.

Driving past Yerevan

we saw apricot trees,

thin armed, scratching

empty skies.

But looking backward

they rise,

an orchard of angels

haloed in light.

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