Winter Orchard

by Peter Notehelfer

The old apple orchard
   has lost its orchardist
Trees return to brambles
Their worm eaten trunks
   blistered with disease
bleed fat blobs of pitch

Still on the long limbs
   there lie rows of buds
Tight bound up in shells
Pressed hard as old coal
   until like bloodstones
they slice in laser light

We long for the spring
   old & gnarly as we are
Our juices settled to roots
in liquor too thick to pour
   much less to swallow
from this decanted life


One Comment to “Winter Orchard”

  1. Quite a vision…here we are are in apple country and I can imagine some of our older gnarled apple trees…awaiting for the the spring.

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