Gayle Sweeney

(May 1955 / Massachusetts USA)

Apple Picking Time


Not far up the path green trees with bright apples
Sparkled under the lovely autumn sun.
The bent, magnificent apple trees marched in rows
With a parade of red shiny drums

At a farm stand my friend and I found
Apple pie a la mode then bought apple cider.
Above the dappled apple trees the sky blossomed
Like shimmery powder blue asters.

To get one big magical pumpkin
From the sunlit patch I thought of pockets and spare dimes.
The wish for an orange Halloween jack o' lantern
Had emerged to glow at night time.

For us all a band played songs joyfully
Like flowers in the blossomy month of May.
Yellow ears of native picked corn from the field
Roasted outdoors on the dazzling fall day.

Sweet maple syrup was sold inside the open air store,
That had a pure country charm.
Some children, warmed by the sun, romped
Like little kittens pouncing upon strands of soft yarn.

Later our horse drawn wooden wagon brushed by
Boughs of apples down a bumpy dirt road,
Carrying us and other harvest visitors
In a way fashioned from days of old.

Clear, silvery bells in the pretty orchard
On the strong harness jingled as they played.
They brought to me the dream of sleigh bells
And a merry, snowy white Christmas holiday.

Along the glistening ride I sat upon
Some sunny, golden hay for a short while
And marveled about how every happy
Apple picking time can always make me smile!

Submitted: Saturday, October 09, 2010
Edited: Tuesday, January 17, 2012

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