My Very Favorite Apple Tree

In the lonesome woods near Sunapee I spied the perfect apple tree. With ancient trunk, yet in its prime, A thing of beauty, its form sublime. As I approached and looked around, I saw most apples on the ground. Alas, I had arrived too late. The deer had sealed each apple’s fate. And yet I saw as if by chance One lone fruit high on a branch. With some effort and to my surprise I finally claimed that lonesome prize. An apple so crisp and tart I knew right from the very start It would make the perfect pie Convinced so much I knew that I Had every good and hopeful reason To return here next year’s harvest season When fruit was ripe and in its prime At next year’s apple picking time. So, I’ll count the days as they go by Until I bake that perfect pie. But I’ll have to wait here patiently As I know my tree will wait for me. It’s my plan to visit often Watch green leaves grow and flowers blossom. I hope the tree will let me know When it’s time for me to reap, not sow Each apple I will wisely choose Pick more, not less, to gain, not lose. And when I’m done I shall retreat And leave the rest for deer to eat Fresh pies already on my mind I turned and left my tree behind Yearning to when I next will see My very favorite apple tree.