Orchards
Old trees resting quietly,
Ripening fruit hanging in dappled shade,
Cherries making their brief annual appearance,
Heavy branches staining under a bumper harvest,
Apples good from July to March,
Russet hues at the end of autumn,
Damsons just right for jams and pies,
Snows giving way to blossoms in spring.
By Christopher Tye
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem