| |
|
blows from the orchard,
litters the ground with pink petals,
makes way for sweet fruit
to form on apple branches,
though there is no guarantee
new apples will flourish
through a summer ripe with threat—
insects, drought, pecking birds, hail stones.
It has to be this way
for sweetness to have meaning.
© by Larry Schug.
Used with the author's permission.
|
.jpg)
Larry Schug is retired after a working life of many different kinds of physical labor. He volunteers as a writing tutor at the College of St. Benedict and St. John's University. He's also learning to play the guitar and is branching into creating music to go along with his words. Larry has published eight books of poems and has mostly decided on what to include in a ninth collection, tentatively titled Ripples and Reflections. He lives with his wife and cat near a large tamarack bog in St. Wendel Township, Minnesota.
|
|
CamilleBalla:
So true. Love the last lines.
Posted 05/07/2018 03:34 PM
|
barbsteff:
Fine pictures in this poem. Count me among the folks still looking at snow (So is Larry if he's at wehome in Minnesota!) We Northerners always face the danger of a freeze after fruit trees start to bud, thus losing the year's crop.
Posted 04/23/2018 12:54 PM
|
Jo:
A direct hit to the heart.
Thank you, Larry.
Posted 04/23/2018 11:07 AM
|
Glen Sorestad:
Ah, so true, Larry! You've captured it perfectly.
Posted 04/23/2018 11:00 AM
|
Puppet Lady:
Simple and beautiful! Thank you for this lovely word picture.
Posted 04/23/2018 10:52 AM
|
paradea:
The last sentence says it all. I like this, Larry.
Posted 04/23/2018 09:33 AM
|
michael escoubas:
Well done, Larry!
Posted 04/23/2018 08:14 AM
|
|
|
|
My Cart 
