T A James

- Apple Tree -

www.tittybiscuits.com

The garden is of wildness
I don’t want to see it tamed

I unfasten french doors
Rickety, riddled with woodworm
Flakes of paint drop like blossom
Beyond lays the accused
Waiting to be restrained
Out there is an apple tree
There’s a path
Covered in moss and creeping weeds
Undefined and forgotten are borders
Scattered flowers peek through
Knee length grass
Rustling and swaying as the wind picks up

Tools in hand, I head for work
Clear, chop and cut away
To repossess all I can
I look again at the apple tree
Struggling to breathe
Firmly rooted, yet twisted out of shape
The apple tree – I hope it will remain
I think of years and all that it has borne
And hope that the morning digger
That will turn and shape the soil
remodelling all that I can see
Will leave the struggling tree

I sit upon the step
To the sound of creaking doors
Watching flecks of soiled grey
Spiral through the breeze
Grasped by an upsurge
Slivers scatter like snowflakes
Should I let them change it
To a large and sprawling lawn
I gape at the parade of pots
Of all that I’ve recovered
Knowing there is always progress
But some things can never change

The sun is going to bed now
So am I, my little apple tree.

- BOXED -