longingly about the apple tree
that was
in her yard.
years ago,
decades ago,
before her hair turned white.
she tells
me how red they were,
how sweet
and juicy.
how easy it was to reach up,
or to climb upon
the branches
and pick
one off.
there were so many apples
on the ground,
we made so many
pies
those days, she says.
so much cider.
and for Halloween we made
candy apples.
it was so much
fun
when i was young climbing
that
that apple tree, i can almost
see it now,
feel the scrape of the trunk
against my knees.
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