Winesap Apples
Gregory A. Kompes
Autumn leaves descend
Red, gold, yellow, brown
Establish drifts that foreshadow
Along hilly country roads.
Humid summer ended
Sweater weather begun
Our annual fall pilgrimage
We embark, apple bound.
Through harvest cut fields
Corn, wheat, pumpkin for pies
We witness delighted
The season´s passing.
We travel with speed
Stomachs lift and fall
Like the drifted leaves
Flurry, take flight, resettle.
Visitation stop, familial graves
Roadside-stand purchased
Autumnal bouquets placed.
Left to mark time at All Saints.
Memorial complete.
Life again lived, persist
Deeper into Chardon´s hills
Toward Sage´s Farm we thread.
The smell of apples draws us.
Well-sacked, cider-pressed;
Cheese, honey, candy arrayed
A rite of passage at fall´s shrine.
Homeward bound now
Back to city streets, cottage homes,
While we snack on reaped treasures
The season´s harvest sown.