The Apple Tree

A breeze brings a crisp bite to my skin, the warmth of a soft jacket provides the warmth I need. Somewhere, I can hear the sparrows chirping, Robins singing their songs. Even Crows screeching, casting small shadows on the day. I don't even care. Those shadows won't cross my mind for today, I want this to be a good day. I only fought a little uphill, the grass slightly brown from the Autumn air. My apple tree of gold, scarlet, and honey hues stood on top of the hill, with branches stretching for the sun's kiss. A smile, a tear from the corner of the eye escaping. A tire swing gently sways, giving the reminder of happier, melodious memories. The tire was weather worn, and the rope ripe with age, the tree's youth had fallen to. Crunchy leaves echo and mask the silence I was seeking for, the bark was rough under my fingers. Just like the months have been. I laid out my patchwork quilt, and slept the day away in peace.