Apple Tree

Apple tree

They closed the window so that I would not climb
into the apple tree at night.
In the moonlight, the tree was the only thing visible
outside my window
Often, when I fell asleep, the tree stood watch,
short, squat arms in a reach and fragrant
with the smell of apples.
Even in winter I climbed into her sturdy comfort.
My mother said I was a sleep walker.
The doctor said I might suffer,
palpitations of the heart, if I ever awakened
in the traumatic dark.
But my walk was always toward sleep,
into that small dip, where all the arms gathered
in the security of a circle.
I had a wish for moonlight & the stars I could not reach
I longed for one small place,
in the center of something that would not break.

Reviews

[Jibey]

A beautiful picture of the child's longing for the clear sky and the place of firm comfort... 'The child is father of the man'.... the longing does not go away. There is something very assuring and consoling about the smell of apples... fruit of pleasure, of risk, of breaking the rules, of naked delight.... somehow... and then of wanting to be safe and secure once more, in the womb of the morning

[Mark]

A search for Eternity and Security: Who would have imagined they both might be found right outside our windows, in the arms of an apple tree?
A very thought-provoking write, Phoebe. Thank you! Mark

[Brown Bull]

We bulls love to live near an apple tree and watch the ripe ones fall. Very Tasty!

I love your poem. I could see you climbing into the branches on a cool night and looking up at the moon.

BB

[Doctor JKC]

Doctor's project their own fears.

Killer last line!
We reenact are childhood as adults.
How has this manifested for you?

I love your work,
Jack

[deeps]

I think this is a beuatiful write here
Truthful as well. Wonderfully written.

[W.k.kortas]

The wise and talented Mr. Simm has expressed it nicely; this, as is the case with the general run of your work, is like something from Aesop or the brothers Grimm, but with an economy and command of language they could only dream of having. Brief, but no less of a work for the brevity. Wonderful, wonderful stuff.

[Ken Simm.]

A deceptively pretty write with at its heart a picture of wishes and longings. As we have come to expect from you an exceptional write with a commanding use of language. Remarkable.

[Emily B]

once again you've said things that define us all a little in the most gorgeous way possible. . . as a little girl I often woke up someplace different than where I fell asleep, maybe I was searching for that place too . . .