Orchard Dreams

Fall descends
on frosted morning
fields of corn
rough between their fallen ranks.

Trailing
at their edges,
goldenrod and purples,
lush growth
rusted through.

September steals the show
from summers verdant green.

Dancing breath
before me swirls,
held and blown,
like five years old.

Into the orchard,
Eden’s rival.
Beneath whose trees,
find I, this joy?
Morning cool
gives way as rising heat
kisses apple- swollen branches
with slanting light.

Bees here too,
sipping nectar,
scattered drops
beneath these ancient trees.

Eyes closed,
I breathe deep
this drunken mix of
heat and cool
sweet and rank,
spent days and horded nights.

Bitter sweetly tucked away.
Treasure to admire
When winters blanket falls.

Copyright © 2004, A. Dannon