The Apple Picker
by Sara Ashley Orr

On a silent morning of the fall
In the waking orchard small
He comes out to pluck from the apple tree
The harvest of summerís toil for me

The ripe fruit has a reddish hue
Slightly damp with morningís dew
Each apple bears a leaf and a stem
To which is connected a broad tree limb

Carefully he hand picks each one
Standing on a ladder for him to reach
Then one by one the apples fall to the ground
And hit the dirt with a thud like sound

The apple pickerís clothes are worn
His shirt is scratched, his pants are torn
The hand sewn leather boots have tears
So does the flannel hat he wears

I bend down to gather apples from the ground
The apple picker makes no sound
I say, "Thank you" but no reply is heard
The apple picker disappeared without a word

previous  next

Poem Copyright © 2000 by Sara Ashley Orr


Home   Enter Poetry Contest Online   Enter Poetry Contest By Mail   Contest Rules   Educators

Frequently Asked Questions   Certificates   Winning Entries   Futures Poetry Book   Order Status

Published Authors' Poetry On the Web   Public Library Catalogue Service

What People Are Saying   About Us   Contact Us   Privacy Policy   Order Poetry Books

All content Copyright © 1998-2018 by the America Library of Poetry.  All Rights Reserved.