Apple Pockets

This morning I have apples in my pockets.

I feel them round and ready and remember

That every year for years (with apple pockets)

The people walk this orchard in September.

A hundred years ago they picked these apples

Small children skipping on their way to school

Young families coming home from Sunday church

Old lovers holding warm hands in the cool.

And when I walk alone I sometimes see them

With apples in their pockets and their skirts.

And when I’m quiet sometimes I can hear them

With merry laughs and boot-scuffs in the dirt.

I reach up for an apple and I twist it.

I bite into the white and taste September.

This morning I have apples in my pockets.

I feel them round and ready and remember.

Copyright © 2010 by Amy Ludwig VanDerwater.
First published in Sharing the Seasons: A Book of Poems, selected by Lee Bennett Hopkins, published Margaret K. McElderry Books.
All Rights Reserved.