McIntosh
One red apple
dangles high in a tree.
I may never reach it,
even with a stepladder.
But I notice it every morning
and every evening,
reflecting light
– like the moon –
from its perch in the sky.
One red apple
dangles high in a tree.
I may never reach it,
even with a stepladder.
But I notice it every morning
and every evening,
reflecting light
– like the moon –
from its perch in the sky.
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