Sitting In The Apple Tree

Sitting In The Apple Tree

Sitting in the apple tree

Branches warm beneath my hands

The sun spills soft through leaves

I watch the world move below

Quiet, slow, and gentle

Apples hang like tiny suns

Red and gold, round and full

I reach, I grasp, I taste

Sweet juice on my tongue

The world tastes small and easy here

Birds call from the neighboring trees

A breeze stirs the branches

I lean back against the rough bark

And feel the sky stretch wide

Time is soft and I am still

I swing my legs, I rock the branch

I imagine far-off places

Clouds drift like lazy ships

The wind carries my thoughts

And I feel lighter than I have all week

A bee hums past, curious

A leaf flutters down to my lap

I watch it twist and spin

The small things seem so loud here

So clear, so alive

I rest my head against the trunk

I close my eyes for a while

The world hums softly underneath

And I am quiet, and I am free

Sitting in the apple tree