My Apple Tree
I’ll tell you a tale, of the day that I was born
When mother pulled an apple tree out of our back lawn.
Then she sat down and ate it, not just the ripened fruit,
But the trunk, and the leaves, and the branches and the roots.
She ate the roots so I would stand strong against the storm.
And the trunk so I’d be straight and true, and the leaves so I’d have warmth.
And the apples, so I could raise a family of my own.
And the branches for a shelter, until they were well grown.
And so no more the apple tree, just an empty space,
But as I grew, so a sapling ...