The Apple Tree
They keep the doctor away. Like garlic to vampires. Has anyone ever thought about that? That doctors are warded away by fruit?
Down among the hilly brush
Where earthen paths doth twist and turn,
‘Neath branches filled with wren and thrush,
Hushed low to hear the planet’s churn,
Red apples grow, their husks aglow
With hues both gay and stern.
The scarlet spheres illuminate
The dusky dim of wooded green,
Their vivid glow spreads to create
A colored prism naught have seen
In sunlit lands, or rosy strands
Of nature for to glean.
The fauna of that secret glade
Converge in peace and neutral truce,
The Hawks and Rabbits share the shade,
The wild dog and the collared goose,
Their qualms addressed, they, finding rest
Forgive all past abuse.
Long after living creatures leave
Their place of birth, this rainbow sphere
Of blues and greens strung through Earth’s weaves
The apple tree, year after year
Will bear it’s gift 'till, sure and swift
There’s nothing left of here.
