In August we carried the old horsehair mattress
to the back porch
and slept with our children in a row.
The wind came up the mountain into the orchard
telling me something:
saying something urgent.
I was happy.
The green apples fell on the sloping roof
and rattled down.
The wind was shaking me all night Long,
shaking me in my sleep
like a definition of love,
saying, this is the moment,
here, now.
“Green Apples” by Ruth Stone
September 10, 2011 by Jane Beal
Those first three lines invoked an extremely powerful image for me ! Thank you for sharing 🙂
-b