June 19th, 2008

poetry, exceptindreams

229: Coming Apples

"Coming Apples"
Virginia Moore

Drought crying like frogs for rain;
cloudbursts throwing creeks
out of their banks; tornadoes like
dervishes; tropics pushing north
to melt inch by inch the polar cap,
practicing someday to sink New York;
clouds forming the cruel crystals of the hail.

But, come what crazy weather, I shall remember
today's attenuation of fine gold,
the flaking petals of the apple flowers
falling through stepped transparencies of light
to parley, then move faster
like skiers coasting blithely down a slope.
A tree loaded with wealth can afford to be generous.
Already it senses the weight and heft and drag
of red-skinned apples rich to the core with
juice.