Oaks to Apples to Wine

In August, I take my rest under the shade,
Great oaks down by the lake, spreading arms
Filled with green, nature’s hand protecting me.
Cool breeze filters through… great delight
As waving flag of summer’s love.
Come September, I shall move from oaks to
Apple trees, taste the sweetness of suspended fruit
Ripening within my hunger, waiting for lonely
Winds to strip the branches clean, as I helpless
Watch the falling leaves descend to Earth.
I shall taste tart wine of hanging grapes upon
Aging vines, know comfort from warmth of
Baking cakes that cool in late October’s frost….
Heralding sign of winter’s coming, smoke of
Burning wood fragrant in early approach of night.


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