The Apple Tree Who Brought Enough

The Apple Tree Who Brought Enough

Dancing in the breeze the tree
is quiet and self-contained.

Well, self-contained
except for the sun
the soil, the birds
butterflies and bees
rain and wind
Daniel and me
pruning away dead and crossing branches
inviting more sun in to her center
lending her our shoulders and driftwood
to prop her up
after November’s storm pulled up some of her roots.

Ok, so not exactly self-contained.
What I mean is self-assured
happy with where and who she is
not fliting about like we humans do.
You know, worried, questioning everything,
wandering some days, angry, distrusting
lost…

Although, some years she is lost too:
like the two years that she was covered with
tent caterpillars
she had to have been a little worried
made almost no apples, and dropped those she did, quickly.
Her world was dark then. She hunkered down, moved within
sent no new branches toward the sun.

Anyway
my point about this apple tree is that
she’s perfect.
Beautiful, strong leaves.
Graceful, arching branches
and more than a few that prove trees get bed head too
with limbs nestled all askew against the sky at night.
Amazing, delicious apples
beyond generous in her season
(to the point that we have run out of ideas again
for things to do with all these apples
and so have our neighbors
even the deer here are drunk).

The apple tree is pure delight.
To play a small part in her full and shining life is enough.

Summer Rhythm

Summer Rhythm

Slow beat

the summer heat

watermelon eat

stop

admire

earth-hardened feet

catch warm-air nap

eyes at rest

beneath cap

swim again

one more lap

that leap

oh that leap

from dock to lake

felt better than crack

remember and shivers still
race

down my back.

Select sweet berries
by the bucket load

spy rabbit

catch toad

deer stroll past
salad-bar the road

garter snake wake

grass alive under foot

happy startled dog

wag-leaps
won’t stay put

tide comes up
surrounds our knees

turning our faces

in, to the breeze,

becoming flowers

to sunny
bumbling bees.

Wandering summer rhythm

a warm night dance

where bodies come to meet

hot damn

damn

hard to beat.

feet