Up An Apple Tree Poem by Megan Lacey

I spent April up an apple tree
Jeans rolled up, bare feet pink, bark clinging between my toes;
My hair in pigtails, a book resting on my lap.
An Illinois Anne Shirley.
There is a pleasant drone of honey bees
Drunk on the blossoms which rest on the crown of my head
Scenting my hair.
The breeze is fresh- clean as only rain-washed April winds can be.
Everything is green, and flowers a riot of colors
The trees trimmed in white, the borders in purple, pink, and yellow
A feast of nectar and dew.
No one quite. normal would inhabit an apple tree of an evening.
A pretty girl should wander in malls, or ride around in fast cars
With a strong arm around her shoulder, they say.
But I am comfortable in my perch,
The only arm around me is a smooth branch, my only ride, the wind.
And elfin delight is taken in such solitude,
In the hour somewhere between day and night
Up an apple tree in April, with it's flowers in my hair.