The Apple Tree

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It lay between the sea and twisted brook.
It stays protected by the strength of land,
Adores the power and the life it took
To break the ice and rise up as a band.

So through water and light it became real,
And when it grew it only felt the pain.
It gave itself to that which could not feel,
And wasted precious fruit it ought sustain.

It must shape its desires to be true,
And push its buds into the empty space.
Yet as the heat departs it takes its cue
To drop the leaves and make the past erase.

Despite the freedoms that the tree hath found,
Nature’s unchanging cycles has it bound.





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