The apple tree

poem

---

I have taken the long road out

into spring

which bursts forth

in blinding, bowing green

in ecstasy of life, trees kneel

before the wind

and everywhere dry earth splits open, singing.

Down at the road's end

there is an apple tree

wavering white in the sun - I cannot yet see you,

if you are there -

if you are, I think, at the end of the road

at the end of all things

beyond the tree

There lies home.