magic apple

from a hidden tree on the property

of my grandmother's old house.

(anything this delicious could only be magic)

11/1/11

All Saint's Day

My mother Esther's

birthday

11/1/11

Love

Gratitude

Blessings

Magic

Peace

outside my window

snow frosts my apples.

ancestral apples

I picked bushels of apples from the trees my grandfather planted

on our family farm forever ago. I unearthed the old harvest ladder,

and climbed as high as it took me.

I looked down and saw the ghost of my mother, lamenting the rotting apples,

that she would have made into applesauce and pies.

The Yellow Transparents were her favorite. Mine too.

I can taste the tartness of her applesauce, the crisp sweetness of her pies,

in every delicious bite...