It was just a walk. A walk together. But I needed this so very much. Just to be outside in the autumn air, surrounded by the wild world and the people I love — this is such a great gift.
She took me down the big pine hill to the edge of the woods where she’d found an old gnarled apple tree. The apples were beautiful, delicious, and surprisingly blemish free. We gathered them together and I told her that my favorite apples come from trees that are wild.
This bounty kept us busy all day long!
The apple tree
on the lane —
“It must be more than 60 years old,”
And it still gives
Who planted it?
How many have gathered from its branches?
The tree stretches out its limbs and fruit so willingly —
unlike the orchard down the road that now sits just behind
bright red “NO TRESPASSING” signs.
This question of belonging,
it dwells with me.
These old apple trees —
can we own them?