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An apple core fell to the earth released by me for what its worth. I had no thought nor care for it for seeds don't look like trees from birth. The flowering trees are brightly lit as branches reach towards where i sit to shade the seedling while it grows the fruit from one discarded pit. The orchard with it's many rows of crimson leaves, each sunset knows the crispness of this autumn air will ripen what the sower sows. And all too soon the branch is bare. I cannot reach for apples there but eat my applesauce with care while rocking in my Malus* chair.
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May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 1:55 AM UTC
The Core of Life, by Charles V. Farrell
An apple core fell to the earth released by me for what its worth. I had no thought nor care for it for seeds don't look like trees from birth. The flowering trees are brightly lit as branches reach towards where i sit to shade the seedling while it grows the fruit from one discarded pit. The orchard with it's many rows of crimson leaves, each sunset knows the crispness of this autumn air will ripen what the sower sows. And all too soon the branch is bare. I cannot reach for apples there but eat my applesauce with care while rocking in my Malus* chair.
Malus - the wood of an apple tree
igclair
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May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 1:55 AM UTC
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