109,865 poems read

I recall the changes of fall…
The yellow leaves of the elms
The red of the oak—the brown leaves of the pear tree
From which marvelous sweet fruit had surprised
And sweetened me and the cherry tree whose
Spring fruit had meant that I would spend an hour
Pitting cherries for pies beneath very green trees
And the ancient apple tree whose twisted trunk
Seemed like some ancient god and his apples
Were golden and seemed more special then the
Apple tree with the more familiar red fruit and
The young peach tree who struggled with our winter snows
And seemed so out of place this far north
22 children lie dead in Connecticut, countless more lie dead
In Damascus…in Somalia…in Chicago.  Did they ever know
What it is like to wake up in Eden where mother and father
Sent you out in peace to pick some fruit for breakfast. 
I walk out and pick up the spent shells
Of the dead ones from beneath the Trees of Eden
And pray that they will restore my soul