Awake With Apples

This morning I am enamored with apple seeds,
and you, in plaid shirt and indecisive
of the weather, plant randomly.
You continue to study the core of the crop.
Not bad, you say, but not delicate, not like
the Georgia apple, that falls soft from the tree.
it enters into the mouth ready for digestion.
I am not worried though, comments always being,
one man's opinion.
My apples grow on hard ground, it is a process
of trust and navigation, and it never rains here,
there is only the snow, sucked from the ground.
There is only the sun, briefly, through black limbs,
so that the apples do not hope for much
and far too often must manage themselves.
They wrap in green faces and conceal sweetness
beneath the hard bite.
They do not recognize the palette of pies, lying
in the window.
There are no bake sale products, nothing to market
for an ordinary run of good eating.
It is a lone tree and forced to grow strong.
It fights the tall birches, shadowing the sun.

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

The wise Ed speaks the truth here; this is so deceptively simple, but the notions of fruit, the apple and the subtle differences in the different strains of the fruit, of trust and concealment...it is mind-boggling that someone can put so much into something that is so seemingly matter-of-fact, so offhand on its surface. Damn.

[Terry Collett]

You are a dedicated writer to your craft. The words in your hand are made to work. No lazy passenger words here. These are a few of my favourite lines:

My apples grow on hard ground, it is a process
of trust and navigation, and it never rains here,
there is only the snow, sucked from the ground.


You have a good ear for the sounds of words and the colour of sounds too.

[Tracie Skarbo]

amazing... and oh so beautiful.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Great analogy of earning trust and respect... great work.

[Ed Hart]

You are leaving us all in the dust... We knew you when...