Poem Revision

After sharing this piece with my Writer's Circle friend and my Dad, I believe the revisions based on their critiques and a fresh look are very good.  I hope you enjoy this version.

Crabapple Picking

By Kimberly L. McClune

September 13, 2011

Across the lane, awaiting branches dip down.

Dotted with ripe redness

The fruit laden limbs beckon us.

Bags in hand, prepared to claim our booty.

Fresh sweetness surrounds our senses

As Autumns goodness lies before.

Under a delicious canopy, the shiny red fruit,

Guarded by lush green leaves,

Peeks out,

Fingers tempted to pluck them.

A small thrill makes its way down our arms

Past our elbows, to our fingers

As we reach for first crabapples of the season.

The firm, ripe crimson apple, tinted with gold,

Eases gently from its bough.

Some drop to the ground as the branches shake.

Others cling, stubbornly, waiting to be plucked.

Reaching further inward and upward,

The maze of branches calls us to look deeper.

More treasure waits above.

Bags filling, and branches lightening,

The sun slowly makes its way across the heavens.

Woven leaf patterns play on grass,

On our shoulders,

We stretch up through the canopy,

Looking skyward for more luscious treats.

Round or oval; small or large; pear shaped or cherry-like,

Colors dance from pale reds to deep purples,

            Through striated gold and crimson.

Marveling at beauty so earthy, yet delicate,

            We examine each tiny wonder.

Awestruck, scent bearing breezes rustle through boughs

            Bringing Autumns true essence.

Each moment more exhilarating

Bags become heavy and full.

Our voices, carried on those scented breezes,

            Reach flowers afield.

Yonder trees answer with whispering sighs.

As the pilgrimage moves from tree to tree,

Unburdened limbs are free, reaching skyward.

We fill bag after bag, dragging them behind

            Along still green grasses.

Surveying our loot as the sun nears journey's end,

            Satisfied mumblings and laughs fill the breeze.

Riches loaded onto a cart and proudly paraded.

Plans for sweet and savory delicacies fill our thoughts,

            Plunder is borne homeward.

Revised September 25, 2011

New Poems

Here are two new poems out of several that I wrote recently.  The first is from notes I jotted down yesterday morning as I watched the sunrise.  Yes I know yesterday was Saturday and there were no commuters or students, but that is where the poem took me.  The second is a telling of picking crabapples with a friend.  We actually picked three different times last week on our lunch hour.  I sort of rolled it all together.  Enjoy.  Feel free to make comments.

New Day Dawns

By Kimberly L. McClune

September, 18, 2011

Clouds reflect the dawn

Breezes caress the leaves

Colors tint the sky.

Squirrels skitter on branches

Children trek to bus stops

Commuters rush to work.

Watching by the window

The day unfolds before me

How will I fit in today?

Crabapple Picking

By Kimberly L. McClune

September 13, 2011

Across the lane, awaiting branches dip down.

Dotted with ripe redness

The fruit laden limbs beckon us.

Bags in hand, we come prepared to claim our booty.

Fresh sweetness surrounds our senses

As Autumns goodness lies before.

Under a delicious canopy the shiny red fruit,

Guarded by lush green leaves,

Peeks out,

Tempting our fingers to pluck them.

A small thrill makes its way down our arms

Past our elbows, to our fingers

As we reach for our first crabapples of the season.

The firm, ripe crimson, tinted with gold,

Eases gently from its bough.

Some drop to the ground as the branches shake.

Others cling, stubbornly, waiting to be plucked.

Reaching further inward and upward,

The maze of branches calls us to look deeper.

More treasure waits above.

Bags filling, and branches lightening,

The sun slowly makes its way across the heavens.

Woven leaf patterns play on the grass and on our shoulders

As we stretch up beneath the canopy.

Looking skyward for more luscious treats.