Sonnet #64

We pass so many apple trees we think

We must stop and ask why they aren't picked

Huge, old trees, branches sighing to the brink

So many apples, red and vibrant, thick

Do people even know they're safe to eat?

These apples never sprayed on backyard trees

Never bothered by the weather, back from streets

Where pedestrians can't reach what they see

There's so much fruit, fifty feet of fruit

Waiting for anyone to notice, to come and take

These beautiful ones, hidden away in yards where roots

grow deep but no one comes to appreciate

The artistry that she makes, these forgotten trees

This messy nuisance of so many apples, waiting, free