Eve and the apple bough

There is something happening to

the apple tree

The wintered grey branches

are changed beneath my fingers,

Like the swelling and stirring inside of me.

All the long days of night and cold

I lay, dreaming of Paradise,

Of the green verdant hours of endless play

as the leaves fell down and drifted away,

And the snow fell, pitiless snow

Cold sinking deep into our bones

Like the edge of flint on deerskin shoes

And I waited in his arms for the night

to take us all,

But the stars turn, he told me,

and there came the dawn of the sun

warm breeze, and snow in rivulets running into streams

Sun, call me back to the apple tree

each morning,

Here today

On a rugged tree

The leaf, the fruit, the birdsong in its branches,

The promise

Of life for the child and me.

Copyright Jo Collett 9/7/13

Apple blossom, Tasmania