The Crabapple

Only one remains
held halfway up
by one of the scraggly branches.
The fruit is old
brown
age spots cover
the wrinkled skin.
The last of the family
shriveled hanging on
– frozen
to all it’s ever known
unable to release
to abandon its branch
even though the others fell long ago.
Caught between all it has ever known
and –

The snow catches
in the crevasse
of each wrinkle.

Published in From the Soil: A Hometown Anthology
Exeter Publishing, Dec 2020