Orchard's Diary

The view from my tractor is apples.

Weather changes the orchard each day.

Violent winds arise from no where

Gleaners find bruised fruit in the hay.

Discs bury the last of the windfall,

Now entombed with the orchard’s past:

Crow feathers, dead rabbits and fallen nests

Robin’s eggs abandoned, never hatched.

This is my life, plain and simple 
My land once plowed by horse teams.
The orchard both nurses and buries
Life cycles and failed dreams.