We've had a week's worth of beautiful days. Fall is such a long and generous season here--just to open the windows in the morning is a glory.

            Enough Apples

We have enough apples.
We have enough to almost fill the bins
And plenty with little flaws
          for applesauce.

Up inside the leafy tent
          blinking with sun and green
                              and tangling our hair
                    with its fretwork of bounty,
We find them hiding--
Modestly blushing
          under their green parasols.
We coax them from where
                    they huddle together,
Gossiping in their twos and threes,
Whispering the secrets of woody things.

Even though we like the look
          and feel and taste
Of tight velvet skin on our tongue--
That clean clear bite of innocence--
We polish one up
          to put a shine on
                    for the mailman.

We have enough apples for the neighbors,
Enough for the birds and squirrels,
Enough for the deer
          and plenty for the worms.
Those perfect ones we stretched for--
The ones that slipped from our hands
          and fell into the bramble of rosemary--
A tithe for the bees.

And the best,
                    the prettiest one,
          chartreuse and rose and flawless,
To hold in our hand
While we think on the patient goodness
                              of trees.