Apple-Woods
Orchards are lower these days,
The rootstock is stumpy on which they are grafted –
The trunks barely over our shoulders,
The branches still reachable, that’s how they’re crafted.
Their forests don’t crowd in a maze,
But spaced to let sunlight turn crabs into plumpers –
And these aren’t some wind-fallen moulders,
But lures to tempt deer in, and blackbirds, and scrumpers.
So take care when walking these ways –
For all that they’re waxen, these fruit can be hairy
When boughs can be heavy with boulders,
All lurking at head-height, to catch the unwary…
