In an Orchard on Thanksgiving
by David Weiss
We walked out among the spurs of the apple trees,
mending our lives behind with our life ahead.
Moonlight lit the frost that was stiffening the field.
A brook spoke for us mixing milky, metallic sounds.
We picked the last apple off a tree, shared its white,
neglected sweetness, laughing over nothing at all.
A sparrowhawk swooped past her face,
then the sparrowhawk’s shadow.
Originally published in Poetry (December 1981)
PHOTO: Last apple in autumn by Volodya Karolkov, used by permission.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: David Weiss is the author of the poetry collections Per Diem, Gnomon, Perfect Crime, The Fourth Part of the World, and Pail of Steam, as well as a novel, The Mensch. He has also published numerous essays on poetry. He is Professor Emeritus of Hobart and William Smith Colleges.
POETRY and PLACES 
A lovely poem, seemingly simple, yet not.
LikeLike