picking apples

after picking
apples all
day in the field,
going from tree
to tree,
filling my basket
with as many
as i could carry,
at night i'd
go home to a good
meal, a warm
bed, and a woman
who loved me.
and my only worry,
when i closed
my eyes to
sleep, my body bent
and aching
from the work
i'd chosen,
was that one
day there would
be no more apples.