The picked red apples, dazzled by the golden sun, glistened
Where they were held beside an old barn in their, wooden bins.
At Christmas red and green orchard colors often are worn.
From simple apples some pure delights of autumn are born.
The shining sun way up in the sky is our biggest star
But I love when bright apples top my table best by far!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This really does express your true love for apples. They are great, we have quite a few up in the mountains, but few are grown in the Concord area. Thanks for a beautiful poem. Lynn