Poem

Apple Trees

The fertilized ground provides for the seed of life,
Incubating the joy of new birth
As the roots take their shape and the trunk erects from the soil
Tiny insects grow anxious
For the fruit that preserves their miniscule civilizations,
And they watch their nutrients start to take shape
The slow progression of growing
For their tender sustenance
The fruits turn ripe, ready to fall from the tree
It begins with the branch
The strong trees arms can no longer support
Its heavy round children,
And the first one falls from the top of the tree
Its high descent merciless as it crunches on the ground
The apple spreads its juices, moistening the dirt,
Filling the holes where worms once burrowed,
And as the fruit provides for small creatures,
It decays and composts into the Earth,
So the process can repeat.