Autumn Fruits

[Newly harvested from our garden]

Caressed by raindrops
Chilled by winter frosts
Kissed by sunbeams
Cooled by gentle breezes
Coaxed to maturity

Month by month
From bud to fruit
Bramleys burgeon
Until they can no longer
Defy gravity

And their goodness
Cascades down on us
To titillate the palate
In tasty tarts and
And crunchy apple crumble

Such joy!

Ken Fisher