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Wednesday, November 16, 2005

apple tree

climbing up
(up, up, up, up, up)
and I could touch the sky,
rough branches beneath
me,
and I would settle into one familiar
place after another,
and the flowers gave way to
little green apples
and the leaves rustled in the
sky that I could touch,
and the leaves became the
world all around
and all year round,
under
winter's sky or soft summer leaves;
hanging by my knees,
stretching out on a limb,
hopping down, sneakers into mud,
it was a good place to
be.

6 comments:

genevieve said...

I found your blog :)

I love your poem :)

xoG :)

erika said...

a very good place to be...
xe

Erica said...

And now I know where yours is ;)

You are an AMAZNIG writer!

Erica said...

lol!

amazING even :p

Ally said...

I shouldn't go so long without checking in with you! Wonderful words - so love your poetry - it makes me happy and smiley inside! :)

ana said...

man, you are truly multi talented!