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| Dark Poetry #4 |
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113 |
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JenniferMaxwell
since 2006-09-14
Posts 2423 |
There’s something about a lone apple tree in a meadow where maybe there once was a house, a cottage with a stone chimney and a granite slab step to the forest green front door no one used even the doctor or midwife who came in the night to deliver the first born a son with golden hair and sea green eyes who gathered each in their season bluebells and poppies and ran with the deer deep in the forest as young men will do when summer becomes the harvest moon and wheat in the fields is as tall as the girl who lives down the road and brings as her dowery linen and quilts and the remains of her grandmother’s tea set embellished with tender pink apple blossoms. |
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