As my ladder that was leaning
near an apple tree keeping heaven still.
Soon where I’ll fill a barrel full
of apples of fine fruited with a ripe
one each dropping to add to
that barrel that lays beneath my
ladder foot, and stern.
As I reach out to pick it and I can
tell for which I can never felt
like doing this even now when winter
is always a hit and miss but what
hiss do I get if I think about all that coming after this. For I straddle
on by though
passing each mile stone gather
what I can know in the meantime
I try to pick the geuine
Apples that are good for picking.
And stow it somewhere before
that winter with its thick air
that comes with it’s brisk
touch of a cold taste upon the flakes
othat fall after each harvest
when it comes after all I Had
much to go on for though.
After the apple picking was nearly
done and I had time to stay,
but nay I can not Stay - for I must
find a bed to lay for
I’m overworked and overbearing
But being tired is rare.
For me to go about sprouting
out a line or two each have a
point of view just like
picking apples here and soon
It’ll be in my gentle care. share,
but what is sort of rare is this
though that the apples
are very ripe and ready to be picked
for my arm was reaching out
towards that Branch I was trying
to keep my grip foot,
and stern on my ladder but now
it was done and apple picking
done for the day and I take the apples
and store away to wait out
For the winter, and then wait
again for that spring air to
take them upon themselves to
share with those who think
me not as brave as they are but
to tell, but what is there
to fall in For I’ll state the hate.
But for each and every fate I
had to relate to something.
Even for me and human needs
to sleep yes but rest though -
but I do know for the
best Rest is that best, and rest is
what I shall receive when I can so
please, with ease, and rest - rest
is for I know what's best.

Dedication to Robert Frost and his poem 'After Apple picking is finished