The days are becoming shorter,
there is a crispness to the morning air.
This is the time my mind reminds me
of apple harvest time.
The sun still is held in the ground,
as I run barefoot under the
heavy branches of the trees.
I search for the perfect apple and
pluck it from the tree.
The juice runs down my arms,
the flavor is so good.
These are the memories of my girlhood
taking in the sweet, crisp flavor of the apple.