In case you didn’t get a chance to stop by the poetry post in the Hoffman Wonder Garden in August here is Marcia Silver’s poem. Click here to see the selections for September and the upcoming months.
Windfall
Early at the community garden,
alone on this quiet, windless morning,
in the orchard—where yesterday on ladders
others picked the ripe, more perfect fruit—
my task is collecting apples beneath the oldest tree.
Under the big tree, yellow apples everywhere,
but I am content with this task I cannot complete.
Apples newly fallen are destined for our sharing table.
Those with light bruises or blemishes to another bucket
for the cider pressing that ends our summer’s work.
Elk will find the rest tossed in the tall grasses beyond the fence.
The apples are small, the color of the moon,
their fragrance elusive, hints of cardamon and cloves.
As I gather the apples at my feet, the tree releases
another that gently bumps my shoulder as it falls.
Chemistry can explain the effects of temperature and sap,
but I believe there is magic in this moment of grace.
This morning my buckets are full, the wheelbarrow heavy.
There are still so many apples to be gathered.
When I no longer kneel to the unexpected gift,
someone will come to collect the apples.
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Marcia Silver is a student of the English language–teacher, volunteer, admirer of small things. She lives in Manzanita with a number of large house plants.
