Tenchi Nage
- Two halves of an apple fresh-cut
- sliding as the scent slides
- into membranes behind eyes
- Blossoms coaxed into springtime
- kiss years of branches
- cold and silver moons
- It is the tree from which the apple
- all apples
- of this world grow
- Roots lunge
- into dark for water
- earth beneath all possible sound
- Red, green, golden apples, bushels and bushels
- ripened in sun's bittersweet touch
- tumble from their climb
Fran Turner
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