Poetry Friday: It’s apple picking time!!!

Poetry Friday is hosted by Renee at No Water River.
The air has been crisp and clear these past few days, and evening is upon us much earlier – I guess Fall is finally here.  Something about today put me in the mind of one of our favorite family traditions that now, that the kids are grown up and on to other more sophisticated past times, seems like something we used to do long ago – apple picking.  We’d pile into the van and take off early one Fall weekend when no one had a soccer game scheduled, eager to pick as many different types of apples as we could.  We’d spend all day at the orchard, selecting, taste testing and planning what we could make with all those baskets of apples we had so industriously picked.  Then there was the making of applesauce and the baking of apple crisps…sigh…I miss those days!  Anyway, here’s a poem to suffuse my imagination with the joys of apples:


Behold the apples’ rounded worlds:
juice-green of July rain,
the black polestar of flowers, the rind
mapped with its crimson stain.

The russet, crab and cottage red
burn to the sun’s hot brass,
then drop like sweat from every branch
and bubble in the grass.

They lie as wanton as they fall,
and where they fall and break,
the stallion clamps his crunching jaws,
the starling stabs his beak.

In each plump gourd the cidery bite
of boys’ teeth tears the skin;
the waltzing wasp consumes his share,
the bent worm enters in.

I, with as easy hunger, take
entire my season’s dole;
welcome the ripe, the sweet, the sour,
the hollow and the whole.

Laurie Lee


7 thoughts on “Poetry Friday: It’s apple picking time!!!

  1. Hi, Tara. These lines are so rich:"the black polestar of flowers, the rindmapped with its crimson stain."Thanks for introducing me to this poem. I always think of Frost's "After Apple Picking" at this time of year.

  2. So pretty to imagine all those who love that apple taste! I eat one every day, almost without fail. I am convinced they keep me going, plus I really like them. the poem is exquisitely written, such a calm & happy rhythm to it. It was hard to choose a favorite line, but I think I like this one best: "then drop like sweat from every branchand bubble in the grass." What a visual, those bubbles. Thanks Tara.

  3. Great poem, Tara 🙂 We went apple picking and bought way too many apples last week. We've made apple pie filling and applesauce and still have a ton left. I am going to try baked apple chips next. (I misread your "apple crisps" as "apple chips," so you were actually the inspiration for me making apple chips!)

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