The Apple Tree

7
Written by dianeperazzo
🍎 

I dreamed I wrote a poem 
about an apple tree that grew from me. 
Its roots were the wishes of my parents. 
Its branches were the longings of my children. 
Its leaves were all my good intentions 
and each apple was born 
from something I once lost or found. 

When September came, 
my leaves rusted and dried.
They fluttered and flew in the wind. 
My apples fell and 
I was visited by squirrels and foxes and deer
who ate the fruit of my accomplishments. 
Goldfinches, sparrows and cardinals  
came to be nourished by my regrets. 

And as autumn wore on, wasps and flies 
buzzed around my decomposing aspirations. 
Grubs fed on them as they sunk into the ground
and were carried by the mycelium 
who spread the word of all I ever loved  
about this wild and generous world
and my tenuous life within it.

Music Pairing: Apples by Megan Henwood

may these words bring truth and healing
through open hands and hearts
and then, let it flow back into our Mother Earth
for the love of all her beings.

Image: Diane Perazzo

Published in Down to Earth, the Canadian Organic Growers Newsletter. October 2024.

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7 Comments

  3. Greetings Diane,

    I enjoyed your poem very much. Thank you.

    When I read the title, my first imagining was of tasting a honey crisp apple, and how it made my mouth water, and the sweetness of it.

    As I continued to read your poem, I was reminded of a movie called “Mr Sycamore” starring Jason Robards about a mail carrier who wanted to be a tree and planted himself. I don’t remember the out come because it was a number of years ago that I saw it.

    As I read the third stanza, I saw how giving of a person you are through the sharing of your words, thoughts, and giving nature. Trees are like that.

    Thank you.

    Reply

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