Sound Play

Not  huai  as in misfortune but rather huai as in fertile,

As in rich; as in: red plums from drooping branches

Bake in the summer afternoon. Huai  as in waiting,

As in: plum trees must wait three years before they bear fruit;

As in: your mother waited for the plums to ripen

Before birthing you in the shade of the trees.

Huai  as in: I have waited to say this poem to you,

This poem that has been in my mind, I give now to you

To keep close to your heart.

Huai as what significance follows; if  not significance, doubt.

As wanting to desire before desire itself comes—huai, and then

A suggestion: pick one. Only the second is right.

As in—you must be skeptical by now. Watch the plums.

Huai  as in they cooled at dusk, and in the humid heat of  the night,

Their skins broke. Sometimes just a thin split—

Can you believe destruction comes so tenderly?

Huai as in spoiled plums, as in plums ruined beyond salvation,

As in plums decomposing into the soil. Utter wrecks of  plums,

They will change completely in the year before they return.

Huai as in that which comes before the year,

But the thought of the year, the idea of the year as it passes (rarely),

After it passes (often). The year as something you think of and miss

On a hot summer night, sitting beneath the plum tree,

Listening to these words.

A little bite—the fragrance of plums pins you to place.

Huai, to pine. The start of nostalgia. To yearn for

                                            a—a character away from hui, the only thing

                                            keeping you from return.