Pomogranate
Each aril,
a jewel in the light,
uniquely a space-filling shape,
pressed yet isolated,
in the sepals of something much greater,
that reveals nothing but the mere
idea of the colour it carries,
gravid, within,
A colour that remains on the skin,
and the clothes,
to remind you of nature's sweet presence,
in the very smallest of things,
almost glowing when the sun passes through.