Apples In My Basket

In an orchard bathed in golden light, Beneath the azure sky so bright, We venture forth on this autumn day, To pick apples ripe in an orchard array. The leaves above, a fiery dance, As we, with baskets, start our chance, To pluck the fruits of nature's grace, In this serene and peaceful place. The trees, they stand in rows so neat, Their branches heavy with treasures sweet, Red and green, a colorful sight, Glistening in the soft sunlight. With baskets filled, our hearts delight, In this simple, timeless rite, Of gathering apples, one by one, Beneath the autumn's warming sun. The scent of apples fills the air, A fragrance sweet beyond compare, As we gather memories, as well as fruit, In this orchard, our spirits take root. So let us savor this moment in time, As we pick apples in rhythm and rhyme, For in this act, we find joy anew, In the simple pleasures that nature bestows on you.