Winter Sonnet

Now that my rhododendron has lost its
last flower the wind has ceased and air
is winter tired, my almond tree is in hiatus,
quietly preparing for early spring when
it will overshadow every tree, throw its
abundance about, snow silk, give hope
to those who suffer gloom. But the ever
so green orange tree bears fruit, it seems,
anytime, yet dull they are and too many
of them, this army of trees receiving EU
money for just standing there in dense
silence. I’ll put orange skin on the top of
the oven, its aroma reminds me of Yule
bygone when oranges were a costly fruit.