A fall evening
heydaying away in the apple trees.
I still wonder if they‘re stuck up there
Hanging on a limb somewhere
I never thought to look among the branches.
I hated my glasses anyway
with their scratchy earpieces
and their flesh-colored frames.
Yet mostly I remember sparrows
Squabbling away with the interloping squirrels.
|Apple Trees Along the Jogging Path, Central Park|