Apple-Picking After Frost
My ladder is unreliable and
the apples are red as Mars.
From the shed I take down a long-
handled rake and carry it to the tree.
Standing beneath the branches,
I hold it up-side-down and reach
the tines like fingers. As I nudge
each sweet planet, the stem breaks,
and I try to catch the apple
before it hits me or the ground.
My neighbor brews another
cup of her steaming herbal teas,
swearing she’s seen a grown
man in a tree, raking leaves.
1 comments:
that is such a great first line. it really sets us up for a story ... and a lot seems at stake. in this case, the one who would climb the ladder, the apples themselves and the sanity of the tea-brewer. i love calling the apples sweet planets ... great ...
and the title is wonderful, that nod to the bigger conversation happening here ...
nice
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