apples, fall

i saw you flower
in the spring of this
particular year, the
nurturer's air rushing
in as if from bellows and
beneath the tree from
which you hung, the
grass beginning its
rise to the goddess

i stayed away from the
tree, and from you, for
various stretches of
time, although you
spied me most days
when i came

to fetch the children,
who were out in the
back field thundering
in their frolic and unable
to hear the call to supper;

or to water and grain the
horses, who stood
in the pasture blinking
and whinnying at
the heat of the sky
and tumult of the birds;

or to dodge the stout
raindrops and electric
flash of lightning
that commuted the
sky into the refuge of
the wild reapers;

or to kiss my lover's
neck, with my hands on
her hips and her head back
and the sounds of
the summer spilling
into the soil if only
for a moment.

you aged slower
than the days moved
forward, but there
you have it - the sun
and moon are rivals
for your soul as much
as for mine

and i came out
one afternoon to
find that you'd
rounded into green
pearls strung
along the branch;

ornaments suspended,
silent as the flame upon
the wick, you in your
clusters clinging to
those slender arms,

hopeful for the day
that you'd find me
with my eyes adoring
your skin and my
voice high in the
chambers of your host.

but i am too wildly
flung to linger
for long, to be a
worthy engagement
for all of you.

some i did pick,
at random, to consider,
to handle, to polish
in the palms, while
most of you looked on.

and the harvest did
come and you braced
for it, virgin brides
awaiting in your green
cathedral, until the
whole affair was past
and you wept to the
ground on the eve of the
harvest.

i found you this morning
while out for a walk in
search of a matchless
offering of frost-dew on the
blade,

and there you all lie on
a matted bed of leaves
and grass, in concert with
a cold autumnal air that
sucked in as if by
bellows.

your stations now fully
transmuted to something
not lowly, but low, coronated
by crystal beads of dew,
your migration completed
violently indeed.

i'd missed it all,
all of it nearly enough
to no longer fully
know you anymore,
which is my consuming
transgression.

but rather than collect
you all in one terminal act
of hubris, to gather you
into unceremonious buckets
and get you off that bitter
bed that will soon succumb
to winter's enduring
concealment, i left
you to be

and stepped away to
rejoin this calamitous
existence that leads me
more away from myself
than toward, knowing that
i cannot be all things
to all good people,
and therefore almost
required by the fates
to leave you
in your spoiling postures

but stll

please

loved no less by me