Tuesday, 15 December 2020

Tuesday Poem: "Green Apples" by Ruth Stone


In August we carried the old horsehair mattress
To the back porch

And slept with our children in a row.

The wind came up the mountain into the orchard

Telling me something;

Saying something urgent.

I was happy.

The green apples fell on the sloping roof

And rattled down.

The wind was shaking me all night long;

Shaking me in my sleep

Like a definition of love,

Saying, this is the moment,

Here, now.

by Ruth Stone

Photo Credit: Jan Freeman

For more information about poet, Ruth Stone, see:


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