You did not take me to the apple orchard
For no one lives on Settlement Road

Between the deserts of snow, the water deserts,

Other than the apple pickers, and

Wind, which cannot change direction on

A narrow line of bloodshot rotten dirt,

So you did not take me to the apple orchard, and

Snow, like moths, land upon your face.
– ph, Amable du Fond River, ON,  4/1/17