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
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This poem is inspired by the beautiful images of apple trees photographed by Kelly Sauer.
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11 comments:
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.
Waiting for us to share it.
the vine sheds what makes no wine...there is an ominous truth in that...gravity does the pruning...
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.
As dry and crisp as October night, dark too, but not without the light of hope in the giving and receiving earth.
... and the cycle continues
With brevity and clipped cadence you impart a full sense of the apple experience.
Yes - things are usually ripe for the picking not for the falling! k.
Yes - things are usually ripe for the picking not for the falling! k.
Lovely!
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
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