Crooked tree, misshapen thing
A hundred years old, if a day
Tall, but not a branch straight
It's bark at least two inches thick
But it's bite was the cloying sound

No birds hung among its leaves
If one might wrap its little feet
Too often the bird was there
Maybe it's little, tiny feet wrapped
Then it wasn't, a motion too fast to see

Bees would him around the orchard
Spring would ring the sound of blossoms
So many insects would sing along
But on the edge of the field
Would sit the tree alone, without

If there was a tree that might
Look out and see the world
And horribly seek to darken it
Even it's leaves, grown, were black
Dead before they dropped

The tree lived, broken, and older still
Birds learned to avoid it,
And insects, they never did
Creatures, feeding it's hunger
Disappeared with quickness

Then a day came, the orchard mowed
Trees trimmed, five by twelve
Blossoms sparkled across the trees
And eventually, the tenders came
To the orchard's final tree

It peered back at them, ringed
Looking at bones, a predatory cave
Even the grass didn't grow
And the tree felt at them with need
It was thick and sure it could take one

But moments went and they were far
Just beyond reach and just too many
They looked, unsure of life
The tree with an ancient cunning
Made a frightening sight

Toward it's top
Just out of reach
What might have been
Ruby, red flowered
But, ******, not ruby, spread

Before their eyes
The blossom went
From flower sent
To apple of ****** spent
First, one; then two, and three

Enough for all, should they reach
One, first stepped, a hand stopped
Pointing and excitement gripped
Gesturing at small bones, evidence
The tree, made apples blazing red

Words were spoke and those, left
The tree, still crumpled and bent
Night fell and the tree felt
Leaving apples up, so so red
A worthy tempt

And right before dawn
One did come, temptation won out
The man, climbed; the tree stood
Held its ire, back it's threat
Waited until, the man out stretched

Snapping him up, quick, quick
Swallowing him whole, spitting out bone
It was such a meal, that the tree just grew
Another inch, or maybe two
Up, and out, roots reached another

The tree spread and spread
Turning green apples deep red
Less slowly it went,
One lonely man a day
Until it made two

And now, the tree leans
Never green, overgrown hollow
Infected, bringing red to green
And might thoroughly explain
Why wild apples all, are sour