Ashen Apple | Jay M Mower
The ashen apple of these days… Denise Levertov
An abandoned orchard reeks of cider, bronzed balls of fruit rot to their cores on a pathway floor. While green weeds strangle ancient footsteps, an eight-foot tripod ladder—four rungs cracked, one missing— pokes between barren trees with some leaves withered crisp and a few rotten apples hanging from strands like broken spider webs. A well-used box truck, now grey and rusted, wants for cargo. The driver-side door rests in a junkyard over the rise and two tires that remain are flat as Kansas. The once festive two-story farmhouse with boarded windows missing, shudders as winds whistle through its frame. Dingy white clapboard cries for paint, but no one lives there to care.