I am a gnarled apple tree.
A beautifully living,
slowly dying,
apple tree.
Only time will tell when the hour glass
drips the last grain of sand.
Then my undetected roots that sink
into the damp ancient depths of Earth,
will curl into a helpless
snarl-- and die.
Then the darkness of
death will descend.

I will crumble and become
the dirt that surrounds me.
My claw like withered limbs
will disintegrate--
No longer bear ripe Red Delicious
fruit dripping sweetness.
Death will rip my forbidden fruit
and scatter my riches upon the
floor of the Earth.
The wind will no longer
whispers my leaves in a
curious choir.
The sun will no longer
dapple gold color into
my fluttering green veins.
I will die and leave behind only
branches,and apple seeds.
But--
today,
I am an apple tree,
far from dying,
and beautiful.