Prepared for winter

Applesauce bubbles in an iron pot. Moist with steam, She tucks loose wisps of white hair Behind her ear, her hands sticky With juice from apples she's peeled. Pleased with the teaspoonful She's tasted, She clicks off the stove. As the steam settles She stands in the doorway, listening. The harvest over, the sound She still hears unsettles her, The rumble of apples rolling into bins. The slant of the sun through apple boughs Casts uneven shadows across her feet. An uneasiness chills her. With the earth's slow shifting, a shift Of sunlight. A thought, Refreshing as sparkling cider, Clears her mind. The harvest -- a returning -- the cycle Beginning to begin again. The steam settled, The spiced fruit ladled into jars, She seals the lids, Seals the thought. She tightens the bands. On white dishtowels, the warm jars Cool.

About these ads
Sponsored Content by LockerDome

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...

Save for later

Save
Cancel

Saved ( of items)

This item has been saved to read later from any device.
Access saved items through your user name at the top of the page.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You reached the limit of 20 saved items.
Please visit following link to manage you saved items.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You have already saved this item.

View Saved Items

OK