a poem in my pocket

an apple tree
offered branch for me
a horse, a hide-out,
a place to spy
what neighbors
were doing in
yards nearby

an apple tree
held sweet memory
a visit by grandma
and grandpa to us;
we peeled and we
canned with more
smiles than fuss

an apple tree
is a treasury
even the apples
that fall, my grands
pick up to throw
to the cows, more
than enough for all

an apple tree
grows with family
to plant and prune,
climb and nurture;
to make plans for
sauce and pie
in the future

Thanks to Mish for serving up a “fruity” prompt at dVerse Poets pub this week…