Friday, January 25, 2008

Sweet, hide, bitter

Apple seeds are bitter, bitter, but the fruit is sweet
Leaning in the breeze over two leaping lads in autumn
Leaping for the lolling fruits of an apple-bowed ent
Ignorant, blissfully, of bitter seeds evading both sight and grasp
Sweet fruit masking, blissfully, the bitter seedy truth
Orange open rays of sun, some so bright they blind the hungry eyes
Light not alight long enough to burn the sweet hidden inner eye
Intently driving hands to harvest what trees no more hide within
Letting it all leaf out, the bobbing fruit of blowing years left out
Over and over to sway over the heads of two unblossomed trees of flesh
Vacant turf all about, excepting scattered prints of boys aloft, then aground
Even though they never, and never will, grab even one unfallen apple
Years unfurled, yet unpunished, in their ripe nows they know not the score
One boy moves away in winter, then the other loses interest, and time
Unmindful of these memories, decrepit, until his grandson asks what is an ent

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