Apples

Jessica Ganji, Contributing Poet

From far away I see something glistening
On a tree rests a shining ball, glossy and red
The fruit sprouting from its flower, I’m listening
How I long for its nectar, even more than my bed
The shell of the fruit, its bite so clean and crisp
Its golden nectar, so fresh and so clean
With every fruit, its skin I strip
The apples being sent through the machine
With every sip, a flavor so sincere
The orchards sing, each and every tree
Oh apple juice, so sweet and clear
My life’s blood, so juicy and carefree
An apple’s nectar, sent from heaven
The fruit of the orchard tree, we leaven