packed in the family car,
going slow down the smaller
roads. radio set to a classics
station. we talked about
the latest news, things
we've heard, how work was.
sitting in silence for part of
the ride, as we listened to the
wind from the sunroof and
windows.

the apple picking harvest
is back again. I can't wait
for supple afternoons with
a crisp breeze. drinking
sweet cider and munching
on powdered rounds.
walking orchard rows of
tower trees \plucking red
noses high and low.

sneaking bites in between
picks, juice dripping down
face and sticky fingers.
it's like you're a child again,
on slow weekend mornings.
dragging day passes on,
the parts tied in
conversations and quiet
moments. crack of twigs
a crushed creed

that fills the spaces of apples
falling to the floor, bruised
by a sharp hit. I pick them
up to look at, taking in the
dents and gray flesh. I
throw them back to the
compost beneath the fruit
tree. the pieces that escape
scars, I plop into my sack
that's gradually getting
heavier.

Her lips wrote
Vuernability
All over the walls
Shook down all
The Apples
And let them fall
Picked them up
One by one
Tasted them
Remembered each lesson
Straight down to the core

The humble apple
Is the fruit of fate
The reward for those
Who have rebelled
And for those who loved

Your love of knowledge
Is the requirement
Of my hatred
Of both you
And myself

If I was to bite into
An apple
Red, crisp, delicious
Would you believe
My love or my hate?

Regardless, I believe in my fate
Which is to somehow rise above
Petty things like the material
And to submerse myself in the immaterial
A platonic difference
I understand
Like I understand my dreams
Indistinct, wavering, but not forgotten

Therefore, I assert
That if any of us
Should take the forbidden fruit of Eden
It should be me
For my heart
Is fit to break
And my hatred
Is deep-seated

I have eaten
the apples
that were
on a tree

the golden ones
that were shining
brightly
in the
morning sun

and probably
were forbidden
at all

I'm not willing you
to forgive me
but by eating them

I learned
how important
it is sometimes
to take a big risk
knowing that you
can change the world.

What a surprise!
A single bud on a rose tree,
Blushing to open,
As glistening dew bathe it.
I moved down the orchard,
Ah! The Rose Family (Rosaceae),
Apples (malus),
Raspberries (rubus),
Strawberries (fragaria).
Having a morning chat,
In awe to see the blooming of their cousin,the rose,
Their leaves trembling with joy.
Roses are red my love,
So are their cousins Prunus,
Plums and cherries,
Red as fresh blood,
Nodding in the gleaming sun.
What a get-together!

i ate an apple
then rubbed my eye,
hoping the juice would
get in my eye.

And there I sat at the table without a thing to eat.
We often take the sweetest and most precious things life has to offer for granted.
The thought persisted.
Of all things I decided to bake a pie.
All things considered I brought apples, pie crust and a pan.
Each apple individually sliced and coated in brown sugar.
Each individual time I thought of her smile and how she's made me laugh.
The oven intensified.
Preheated by how delectable and sweet she really is.
Although cook books were there I put ultimate trust in my ability from memory.
The places we've been, the things we've shared.
All the perfect recipe of how precious life truly is.
Our taste buds craved more.
Crumb covered mouths yet to be wiped clean.
To further elevate all the sweet moments life has to offer.
Our bodies like crust that hold these precious moments.
Preserved with slice after slice.
Rather than give pieces of ourself to satisfy the moment.
We give wholeheartedly.
Now I am full.
Finding the meaning of life