Charles Webster Hawthorne (1872 - 1930) Girl with Red Rose
Some springs, apples bloom too soon.
The trees have
grown here for a hundred years, and are still quick
to trust that the frost
has finished. Some springs,
pink petals turn black. Those summers, the
orchards are empty
and quiet. No reason for the bees to come.
summers, red apples beat hearty in the trees, golden apples
glow in sheer
skin. Their weight breaks branches,
the ground rolls with apples, and you
fall in fruit.
You could say, I have been foolish. You could say,
I have been fooled.
You could say, Some years, there are