Sonnet #66

To make the best fruit, the apples and pears

Must have their young branches weighed down
The branches shoot up too straight, can’t bear
To turn their tips away from precious sun
But they must, or else the fruit will be thin
It will hang at odd angles, fall off, rot
When moisture can’t be blown away by wind
In those tight clumps against the stalk, the roots
Will feed the tree, and only leaves will grow
Tall, brittle branches, little fruit, so bend
The young shoots down, hold them low
Until they harden there. Hardship sends
the branches freedom to create, pruning applies
It is the cut and twisting that births the apples

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s