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Lemon Trees
All I can recall
From my archaic cerebral matter
Is the scent of bursting lemon trees
Acidic bulbs beginning to shatter
They stand like statues
Pristine pedestals of yellow
Strewn across the rough terrain
Stoic yet mellow
And every night
At the dusk of creation
Orion raises his bow
And they dance in jubilation
Swaying left, then right
With the rhythm of the night
Bowing their blooming heads
To the feet of the riverbed
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