Apple

You might say that living in an apple tree
is not much of a life, and I would agree,
except when you are an apple.

The fear of falling to the ground
and getting bruised and turning brown,
and filling up inside with worms

or having deer lick and bite,
just hardly seems right
when I could be

swinging lightly in this tree.

I have some times of great appeal
when outer skin turns green
to crimson, my inside beauty
showing up outside me

for awhile, with no brown spots
of aging, no prune furrows streaking
across my face,

and the shade from the burning
light can be so glorious to hide
in that others make it legendary–

by speaking of
this power within
the life of us apples.

I know I was just meant to be
swinging lightly in this tree.

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