Fall fountains of sun brimming
Bronze leaves burning
In summer’s dying light
But not yet
Her aged hands hold on
For one more day
In the apple orchard
Where it all ended anyway
Reaching up for one red orb
He bites the firm outer layer
And throws it on the ground
“It’s bitter,” he says
And moves on to another branch
For a second chance
Mother earth holds her breath
And watches
I thought the ground trembled
Bent branches shaking
And restless leaves rattling
Could it be anguished memories
Or delight?
Was it envy that he still
Could bite and not die?
That although lowered—
He could still reach up and touch her precious fruit and live?
I swear the ground trembled
As we nakedly walked away
Hand in hand unashamed
