Poem : For the Apple.

For the Apple. 

I delight in the crispness of an apple, 
 my lips wrapped around smooth skin
 and pure, sweet flesh
 broke open between my teeth. 


To hold it in my hand, 
 the weight of it reminds me, 
 the gleam of green skin reminds me 
 of growth 
 of goodness
 of briskness and autumn
 of contentment 
in the order and seasons of things. 


Sun 
and rain
and leaves of trees
then blossoms bursting to this new thing,
  this sweet new thing,
ready for the picking, 
for the plucking,
for the grip of my fingers,
for my lips on its skin
for my delight in this gritty, delicious 
  nectar of nature 
  and newness of life. 


In one sweet moment, 
I hold goodness in the grip of my hand.