springfield

each fall there
is a parade
in town
that involves
apples.
apple sauce,
apple pies.
apple butter.
the homecoming
queen is
atop
a white convertible
waving numbly,
a red delicious
in hand.
there are dogs.
kids pulling
wagons. old
soldiers from
the legion post
wearing boots
laced high.
the mayor
comes out and says
something
about how wonderful
it all is.
and to pick up
your trash before
you leave.
you wait in
your car for it all
to pass by. you
think about how
the leaves have
turned, fallen,
how the streams
now run cold.