In the homestead orchard, a cascade
of frozen yellow apples glows gold
against the darkening stands of fir:
I’ve never felt so wise nor so old.

A sister tree tumbles red delicious—
water-cored and rotting, yet persistent
on each stem, each hangs on to glory
with an end-of-life insistence.

Evening falls, the ground mist rises.
The last full moon this year does not fight
to shine. The apple trees spread their wealth;
fox comes to the scrumpies, and a flight

of roosting crows rises in a family fright,
settles to the branches back to sleep.
The year of many apples follows down the night:
I’ve never felt so dark nor so bright.

Sandy Brown Jensen

Homestead Apples: Golden Delicious
Homestead Apples: Winter Bananas

Homestead Apples
Solstice 2019

In the homestead orchard, a cascade
of frozen yellow apples glows gold
against the darkening stands of fir:
I’ve never felt so wise nor so old.

Homestead Apples: Red Delicious
Homestead Apples: Red Delicious

A sister tree tumbles red delicious—
water-cored and rotting, yet persistent
on each stem, each hangs on to glory
with an end-of-life insistence.

Last Full Moon of 2019

Evening falls, the ground mist rises.
The last full moon this year does not fight
to shine. The apple trees spread their wealth;
fox comes to the scrumpies, and a flight

of roosting crows rises in a family fright,
settles to the branches back to sleep.
The Year of Many Apples follows down the night:
I’ve never felt so dark nor so bright.

–Sandy Brown Jensen

Sandy Brown Jensen

I am a retired writing instructor and faculty tech specialist from Lane Community College in Eugene, Oregon. I still teach and am also a photographer, poet, blogger and digital storyteller (short videos).

View all posts

3 comments

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

  • Lovely, multi-layered, rich. I see you at the far end of a darkened tunnel, standing in the light.

    Much love in this complex and simple season.

  • Beautiful work, Sandy. Thank you. I love the feeling of acceptance in it. At least that’s the word that came to me.

    This year–for the first time I can remember–I’m already caught up in the sun’s return instead of a drawing-down. It feels odd to be so upbeat at the closing of my year, but I can’t help myself.

    As a structural note, I had to copy the sections of the poem and assemble it into one piece before I could feel I’d really sat with it properly. The photos are beautiful, don’t get me wrong. I just need the whole poem together before I could sink into it.

Sandy Brown Jensen

I am a retired writing instructor and faculty tech specialist from Lane Community College in Eugene, Oregon. I still teach and am also a photographer, poet, blogger and digital storyteller (short videos).

Subscribe to my posts



Created by Webfish.