Fall is the season of delicious new-crop apples. We’re working on a bag of this year’s Spartans–crisp, juicy, sweet-and-sour… so good! Today, a couple of apple poems to celebrate this delicious fall fruit.
Because they come in wood, brass, marble
clocks, tiles and trivets
Because their roundness pleases
their coats of red, yellow, green and mottled appeal
Because of Delicious names like
Jonagold, Granny Smith, Red Rome and Spartan
Because of the sweet-tart of Newtons
and One a day keeps the doctor away
Because they morph into pie, crisp and cobbler
sauce, juice and cider
Because they are stars
under a modest exterior
Because they declare me forever a teacher
and their connection with knowledge is iconic
Because they remind of irresistible fruit
and the fact that knowledge isn’t everything
© 2009 by Violet Nesdoly
An apple never tasted as good
as that crisp, new-crop MacIntosh
so cold it hurt my teeth
on the first cracking
I nibbled on it
as I took the clothes
off the line for Mom.
The fall air added
a whole extra
flavour to its tart sweetness.
They don’t make apples like that
© 2022 – Violet Nesdoly
2 thoughts on “Apples”
This reminds me of the days long ago when our family went to the orchards around Kelowna and we picked up the windfalls and enjoyed many good apples for lunches and pies.
That sounds wonderful! I wonder if that would even be possible these days. So many of the orchards in the Okanagan have been turned into vineyards!