Apple

 

grew to the exact weight and balance to fall

   turned on its axis in the wind sufficient to fall

   here where it rests in a thankyou bowl like a still life

 

cool as to touch and that way for weeks of time

   colours over every curve soft to disappear

   an invitation to bite and bright till they’re gone

 

once bitten twice why not the scent of airy wood

   is it or watery flesh or bitter or sweet it is

   to the last mouthful the scent of our world

 

the crunch the head inside hears the chop chomp

   intimations of mortality inimitable

   serendipitous bitesize gulps  

 

tasting belonging to be and the longing to be

   going on forever a taste of this airy world

   fresh acidic sunny tart champagne