Monday, September 26, 2011

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

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