Tuesday, September 17, 2013



The leaves loose early now,
As hapless children
Pull away and run.
Bereft on barren branch,
Spotting in the sun,
Late apples cling 
Where just days past 
We loved beneath the green ---
Green scattered now, 
Leavings,  gold then rust,
Gone to ground too soon.
Too soon the hurried rush,
The barren branch,
The fallen, spotted 
Sticky, ripened fruit.
Too soon the leaves,
The fall, the spot of rust;
Outrun, the frenzied, scattered 
Sweetness gone to dust.


  1. I LOVE this poem. You have captured it so poignantly.........this is how I feel exactly!

  2. you def captured the feel of fall...it is my fav time...that last brilliant beauty before the dying...all the color...the fruit...the end of the season...to rest...

  3. Ah, I am always a bit sad about those apples last to fall...they grew so sweet all summer and at the end of their growth end up in a heap. One can hope, however, that they bring forth new life!

  4. Karen I think you're most fortunate in living in a place where the poetry of nature is pure and visible. Not concreted over, ignored and disregarded by a population that given the opportunity will not even look up to see the movement of constellations. I see Orion is now beginning to come over the southeast night it is sad in a way if I point to him and none I know have ever met him, much less an apple shed from a living tree. Apples come in plastic bags from the Chain Market..

  5. How well you capture the sweetness, or bitter-sweetness, of the harvest and those last days of sunshine.

  6. Beautiful poem... I especially like the tempo in the end.

  7. Too soon is too true - but your telling of it is beautiful nonetheless...

  8. wonderful image to support your poetry.