Monday, November 27, 2017

Back Yard ~

One day while passing hurriedly
on Cliff Street where the orchard was
I caught sight of an apple tree running,
when suddenly it stopped,
the right foot stretched out
for the earth in front
the other high behind,
with one arm thrust forward
the other cocked chest high—
speed caught in flight
at the moment of victory
in dappled red and green
dashing across the finish line,
while runners pursuing it
stood there awed, gaping,
motionless like trees.

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