Poem telling the story of an Apple Tree.
40 lines. |
Every year to songs of passing seasons Begun in Spring and sung 'til Autumn's Fife blooms in every meadow flowered dresses, blossoming as Nature springs to life. Green and incomplete sprouts the Flower winking on a waking Apple Tree, blushing white and pink at being naked, dressing after Winter, after sleep. No longer does the stir of wind gone past her whistle with the moan of tired trees. Sighs of cold, bare bark have turned to Laughter, to giggling, rustling sounds of shifting Leaves. Day by Summer's day she slowly grows; cramped and crowded limbs unfold in tune to the new enchanting Life she sings, grateful to be free of Winter's womb. Strengthening and stretching day by day. Night forgotten; basking in the rays of the Summer Sun that loves to peek, with a smile, on his daughter's play. And morn by morn she rises to the Hymns of Mother Earth's good soil; Nature's soot Orchestrates it's girl a pretty Frock with Ornaments of ruddy, rounding Fruits. Growing still, and reaching for the heavens, yet straining for the distant Melody that drifts along the breeze to herald Autumn, she sings to Sun, "Father, dance with me!" But Fall sweeps in to dance with Summer's Daughter he croons to her, and in his Wind they sway. The proud, but sad Sun glances on the Dancers drifting off to join the shorter days. She wears the Gilded Robes, his Suit the Darkness; the Apple'd Youth gives way to Amber'd Gown. As Sun and Nature give away their daughter to wed, the days are slowly winding down. The year is near complete, its almost Winter, and Golden Leaves will fall to waning days. The Sun says goodnight to his Apple Blossom as Autumn gently takes his girl away. |