Alastair & Tina's Backyard Apple Tree
A Man's Work
An apple-tree, a cedar and an oak
Grow by the stone house in the rocky field
Where I write poems when my hand's in luck.
The cedar I put in: the rest are wild --
Wind dropped them. Apples strew the autumn ground
With black, sweet - smelling pips. The oak strews air,
Summers with shadow, winters with harsh sound.
The cedar's silent with its fruit to bear.
Winter Is Another Country
If the autumn would
End! If the sweet season,
The late light in the tall trees would
End! If the fragrance, the odor of
Fallen apples, dust on the road,
Water somewhere near, the scent of
Water touching me; if this would end
I could endure the absence in the night,
The hands beyond the reach of hands, the name
Called out and never answered with my name:
The image never seen with sight.
I could endure this all
If autumn ended and the cold light came.
by Archibald MacLeish (1892 – 1982)
in Collected Poems 1917-1982
Auntie Margaret's Amazing
Blenheim Orange Apple Tree