Lychee

 

the rush and whistle and clang and drone

   of existence outside the bristling skin

   of lychee means also thunderstorms of drink

 

thin its skin lantern-like diminutive

   in warm nights that when split

   its dark case elegantly releases

 

the whitest moon of flesh imaginable

   and inside that a sliver of seed

   with thoughts of more trees of moons

 

dropping into leaf-rich earth

   while lychee’s rose-like fragrance reaches

   upward into the near musical air

 

best before aroma and shape and colour fade

   cold in syrup with white ice-cream

   on an otherwise calm warm ordinary day