Apples

Bunch of Apples 
In fall I picked ripe apples;
In winter pruned them, too.
I drank hard cider, ate fresh fruit.
My dreams, thank God, did not take root
Like apple seedlings do.

Linked to dVerse Poetics where Anmol is hosting with the theme “apples”.

Apples

Author: Frank Hubeny

I enjoy walking, poetry and short prose as well as taking pictures with my phone.

48 thoughts on “Apples”

  3. WA state is known for its apples; some grow up to a pound. Farmers dream of profits as they wrap those beauties and ship them back east.

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    1. I remember having to carefully pick the apples in Maine setting them gently in the pouches we carried and emptied slowly later into bins. Thank you, Glenn!

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  4. It is astounding how many apples that grow on just one branch. God is so generous to us. Dreams, like apples, are plentiful. We can only realize so many, so we need to choose. Well said in your poem, Frank.

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    1. I don’t know what kind of apples those were. It was a picture I took many years ago. We brought our children to an orchard to give them the experience of picking apples although I used to do it as a job when I was much younger. Thank you, Danik!

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    1. Sometimes God protects us from our self-centered dreams by not giving them room to happen. Sometimes he lets Satan give us precisely what we want. I did get what I wanted many times. I still feel the effects of those entanglements in the swamp of mindsets and habits that I wish I had repented of long ago. Thank you, Dwight!

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  9. I like the image of a tree or orchard being cared for, picked and pruned to ensure it flourishes – and then reaping the rewards. I wonder what the dreams were that did not take root.

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    1. Most of them were dreams of doing good that would have buried me deep in responsibilities that ultimately only served myself. Dreams of manipulation rather than stewardship. Thank you, Kim!

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  22. Hi there. I am going around the neighborhood introducing myself. My name is Marc. My blog contains excerpts from my book The Driveway Rules. It contains memoirs about growing up with undiagnosed autism. I hope you stop by.

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