Harvest

Harvest

A Poem by Fabian G. Franklin
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A non-rhyming poem

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Far from the orchard was only the smell of grass;

Fresh cut and clean with a hint of wild onion

Butterflies danced by on painted silk wings

And the sky shone down a perfect turquoise blue

 

Across the fence and through the pasture we'd trek

Being careful of our step where the cows were grazing

Past blackberry briars where startled Japanese beetles

Took flight in a whir of indignation

 

Up ahead and across the creek we came to the field of trees

And the air changed sharply to the scent of wine

Rotten brown corpses of fallen fruit lay attended

By yellow jackets, honey bees and a host of fruit flies

 

There, against a sturdy green tree; body twisted

By some previous seasonal vine

Was a weathered wooden ladder we used to climb

High into the branches for the ripest fruit

 

They were picked and dropped into expert hands;

Swiftly relayed into woven bushel baskets

Each one inspected and silently approved

We knew mother would be the final discerning judge

 

The heavy scent of honeysuckle wafted on the breeze

As we marched with our baskets through the weeds

Scooting them, pulling them, under the barbed wire

And carrying them singing songs till home

 

With loaded baskets we would triumphantly return

Beaming with pride and sunburn red as apples

Brown skinned children of the summer sun

Conquerors of bees, snakes and hidden cow pies

 

Then the real work began, the washing and peeling

The coring and sweating over tubs as we sliced

And all the while mother watched and supervised

Washing and pulling out Mason jars and spice

 

There would be apple butter, apple jelly and pies!

I can still smell the cinnamon

From those childhood hours like yesterday

The work of harvest we children considered play

 

 


© 2017 Fabian G. Franklin



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Reviews

Amazing use of description. Made me wish to be part of the harvest. I liked the way you made every situation worthwhile and interesting. Thank you Fabian for sharing your amazing poetry.
Coyote

Posted 1 Month Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Fabian G. Franklin

1 Month Ago

I always loved apple picking time back home as a kid.
Coyote Poetry

3 Weeks Ago

Me too. Simple actions shared with family. The best days.
Wow, amazing poem! I see no mistakes and grammar is awesome!!

Posted 1 Month Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Fabian G. Franklin

1 Month Ago

Thank you for reading and leaving a comment. I'm glad you enjoyed. I'm quickly approaching my 57th y.. read more
Ashley

1 Month Ago

Anytime! Wow, that's a long time.
funny how many things that are play when we are young, become work when we grow older...

as usual the description is so vivid...even though you are talking NC and i spent much time there, this made me think of Vermont...when i was a kid, and i love that state the best.
i also really love free verse...it just flows so naturally...
j.

Posted 1 Month Ago


Fabian G. Franklin

1 Month Ago

Thank you Jacob. I even included a bit of original artwork with this one. I've always loved apples a.. read more

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3 Reviews
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Added on September 6, 2017
Last Updated on September 6, 2017

Author

Fabian G. Franklin
Fabian G. Franklin

Boone, NC



About
Visit my blog at http://thepoetsparlor.blogspot.com "No great genius has ever existed without some touch of madness." Aristotle "The salvation of man is through love and in love." From Man's Sea.. more..

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