apple tree

poems 1 Minute

©2023 michael raven

tree fingers growing
where hands used to be
and all cottonwood head
              tumbling snow

old man hollow, give us
         your acorn bread for
    river swell swallow
spinning woolhead thread
  come, follow us to the
apple tree queen at
         that forbidden lake
      full of mist --
   that crisp,
 crimson
sanct-
uar-
y

hearts up your sleeve
  hide the blades we
     cannot see
Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com
Published

6 thoughts on “apple tree”

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