Apple Tree

[moses lee]

The smell of old apples,
On a February.
Three-thirty in the morning,
Un-feathered fog
In the damp hushed stillness
I walk the dog.

That old Apple tree, Next door
Didn't have any apples, Last summer
Maybe this morning
It was reminiscing
Of when it's limbs
Were much younger

-end-
Moses Lee

[watcher]

Moses...

I like this very much...Thanks for posting it!