Apple Tree

January 13th, 2019

Apple tree with slowly-falling leaves and small hard fruits bursting over months from pillow-flowers opened in the spring:
Your trunk where a thousand sapsuckers have drilled, through which has flowed a million liters of the purest apple juice has seen another million visitors in three decades of their coming here.
Your fruits have fed a thousand feasts, have celebrated, birthdays, Christ’s mass and thanks giving, have graced the squealing smiles of endlessly-delighted children — they have passed thus into myth and to infinity.
You have overseen generations of grasses and supervised the vineyards in Summer and to Winter’s flood when you shed your leaves to grant the ground its duff for insulation:
In Spring they are returned to you in glory and anew to catch the granted light of sun whose life you will return in the thankfulness of pluckers.
Under your widened leaves of August days we passers-through have found relief and inspiration: your waving branches praise the wind which displays the breath of God blowing cool up the valley.