Apple Picking Time (at Applecrest)

Gayle Sweeney

Not far up the path green trees
with bright apples sparkle under the lovely
autumn sun.

The apple trees, brimming with dancing red,
marched in rows like many shiny
beating drums.

At a farm stand my friend and I saw
apple pie a la mode, then bought apple
cider.

Above the dappled apple trees the sky
blossomed like shimmery powder blue
asters.

To get one big, chosen, magical pumpkin
from the sunlit patch I thought of
spare dimes.

A wish for an orange Halloween jack o
lantern had risen to glow at night
time.

Songs floated in the sunshine as joyfully
as the flowery month of festive May.

Yellow ears of native picked corn from
the field roasted outdoors on the
dazzling fall day.

Sweet maple syrup was sold inside the
open air store, enjoyed for its
country charm.

Children, warmed by the sun, romped gladly like
little kittens, chasing strands of soft,
dyed rain.

Later our horse-drawn wooden wagon
brushed by boughs of apples down a bumpy,
dirt road,

carrying us and the other harvest visitors
in a way fashioned from days of old.

Clear, silvery bells on the strong harness
in the pretty orchard jingled as they
played.

They brought to me the dream of sleigh
bells and a merry, snowy white
Christmas holiday.

Along the glistening ride I sat upon some
sunny, golden hay for a short while

and marveled about how every happy
apple picking time can simply
make me smile.

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September, 2010




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