Ruth Stone: "Green Apples"

In August we carried the old horsehair mattress
To the back porch
And slept with our children in a row.
The wind came up the mountain into the orchard
Telling me something:
Saying something urgent.
I was happy.
The green apples fell on the sloping roof
And rattled down.
The wind was shaking me all night long;
Shaking me in my sleep
Like a definition of love,
Saying, this is the moment,
Here, now.

"Green Apples" by Ruth Stone. Text as published in Second-Hand Coat: Poems New and Selected (Yellow Moon Press, 1991).

Watch the poet read this poem.

Art credit: "Green apple lying in green grass," still shot from a video by motion.pl.