Pre-digital childhood

Remembering a pre-digital childhood; the, now, quaint pleasures of Autumn: orchards weighed down with ripe apples........ ripe for robbing, berries and damsons ready for picking. This was one of my first poems, I haven't seen it in a  long time.

   Held Apple High.

 

There's a place for me

up among the branches

of an ivy-draped lord.

 

Crab-appled;

golden treasures mixed

with stars of leaves.

 

There, inside the old elbow,

with Autumn breezes

close by shoulder,

 

quiet as an owl

I'd love to be.