Even by the bushel, they
didn't last long, those sweet,
juicy apples from over
by Corrales, way, way down
North Rio Grande past
long haciendas, lushly
treed land
From sleepy roadside stands
they beckoned, Yellow
and Red Delicious, fresh from
the orchards, dirt cheap
Sundays, Sandia Crest
loomed blue over valley below,
the fast-spreading city and
ten thousand hazy
tomorrows
Turns hairpinned down
through aspen golds,
wide russet oaks,
and apple stands stood there
as well, with spring cold
cider, sparkling,
undeniably made
by the gods
Here, too, a hand-picked
bushel, polished with promise,
(top layer only), and
as paragons go,
an only occasional
worm
--Jo VonBargen 2011
"Beautifully written!" A time capsule for future generations. FROM THIS FAR TIME (The Human Saga) Fierce, taut poetry! http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005KJLCLC
