May 24, 2025

Broken apples

Gratitude, Poem

Old apple on tree

In the hot afternoon

fire turns to air

too hot to breath so you

sip it

slowly

bit

by

bit

in the tree’s shade

I notice its skin

apple red

a cheery red

surrounds holes

some gaping ones

the skilled work of worms

still at work and

others for whom

the apple’s ending is a gift

to be made new

and alive

in a hurry

In the heat

of

this hot afternoon

paul Lang

paul Lang

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