In the Season of Pink Ladies
After Honeycrisp and Winesap have fallen, another season begins
The orchard glistens adorned in rose-gold fruit
Branches creak, music of surrender.
On tiptoe my son shakes gnarled limbs bringing a shower of blushing apples.
He gifts me the pretty one laced with wormholes.
He runs ahead,slipping from me
As his shadow lengthens, another season begins
The orchard glistens
My son crushes fruit underfoot,
their splitting, music of surrender