Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Apple Picking (Poem)

Apple Picking

How you reach,
ever stretching

that hand up, as
if it's not enough

to wait for what
the branch will

hold down for you.

     * * *

The falling is
to the apple

no more than
is the missing

limb to the tree.
The vine sheds

what makes no
wine. The fruit

the tree bears
as the ground

does rot after.

© 2012 Maureen E. Doallas
______________________________

This poem is inspired by the beautiful images of apple trees photographed by Kelly Sauer.

11 comments:

nance said...

i am now thinking of a cool, crisp, juicy, sweet apple just hanging on my tree waiting for me to go out and pick it.

S. Etole said...

Waiting for us to share it.

Brian Miller said...

the vine sheds what makes no wine...there is an ominous truth in that...gravity does the pruning...

Serena said...

You've made me see a whole orchard... such peaceful calm, such sweet delights waiting to be fulfilled when joined with our lips, the union that comes with eating... Lovely poem.

hedgewitch said...

As dry and crisp as October night, dark too, but not without the light of hope in the giving and receiving earth.

Wolfsrosebud said...

... and the cycle continues

Kim Nelson said...

With brevity and clipped cadence you impart a full sense of the apple experience.

Manicddaily said...

Yes - things are usually ripe for the picking not for the falling! k.

Manicddaily said...

Yes - things are usually ripe for the picking not for the falling! k.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Lovely!

jen revved said...

Distinctive and beautiful, Maureen-- the effect of the spaces between couplets is of falling in slow motion-- somewhere Marisha Chamberlain has a poem about apple picking I used to love-- I heard her read it numerous times way back when... xxxj