Listen to poem:
The Orchard's Bounty
Written: September 24, 2023
Apple Picking Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
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In a farm adorned with autumn's grace,
Where saffron sunbeams slightly trace,
A bountiful orchard, a wondrous sight,
Where apples hang, kissed by sunlight.
Apple-picking crate handy, we venture near,
To savor apple sweetness we hold dear.
Picking apples, a cherished tradition,
Every fruit is a regalia of nature's provision.
The branches sway, whispering secrets untold,
As we gather the harvest, worth beyond gold.
Their vibrant shades are a feast of delight.
As we pluck them, a symphony bears flight.
Crisp and succulent, every morsel is a treat.
We burst with delight as aromas never deceit.
The harvest of the fruit, nature's abundance.
Reviving our bodies and souls via indulgence.
From Granny Smiths to succor Honey Crisps.
Every apple utters a tale, every tidbit is bliss.
The orchard's opulence is a perennial treasure.
Connecting eras is a string that we can measure.
My extended bifurcated ladder pokes the tree still
I'm also picking the finest fruits I can foresee.
As sunset draws near, the barrel will fill.
I may have left two or three apples on a tree.
As the sun goes down the shades fade.
We cherish the orchard for the time jade.
We've known the thrill of plucking apples.
All these trees savor akin to snapples.
An admiring bird sings while sitting under a tree.
They favor the fresh, white crisp alongside the bees.
The jars were then filled, hitherto in the gloam.
The halcyon family cartwheeled their harvest home.
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