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Fredericksburg The Bradford pears are in bloom,

Of slave feet on the way to the block

Maiden fragrance in the rain,

And the petals fell with the rain

Dancing with an old, old town,

On your hair. But death,

Stooped with history

Never welcome, is no stranger

And chortling at death,

In this town.

Where the bones of thousands

The Bradford pears are in bloom

Lie stacked like sticks

Again, and it is easy to grieve

In civil war trenches,

Here in the rain in a town

Now manicured lawns.

Where blood and tears

The Bradford pears were in bloom

Have always mingled with sorrow

In that spring when we walked

And rain and nourished the pears

On bricks worn smooth by the tread

And the ground.

Ruth Ann Allaire, Ph.D., is a retired college biology professor who lives in Fredericksburg, VA.  She is active in writing, gardening, genealogy research and studying various healing modalities. Married, she volunteers for Mental Health of Fredericksburg  and the Virginia Master Naturalists. 41

Fall 2013 Volume 1, Issue 1

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FLR the Anthology 2013 - 2014  

A compilation of the Fredericksburg Literary and Art Review, Volumes 1 and 2 (2013-2014)

FLR the Anthology 2013 - 2014  

A compilation of the Fredericksburg Literary and Art Review, Volumes 1 and 2 (2013-2014)

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