The Last Apple

Walking in the garden
this spring day
I see one surviving apple
still clinging to the tree
on a fragile branch.
Wizened and brown,
like a shrunken head,
it has weathered winter winds,
storms and snow
and yet remains
to greet the new buds
that are bursting out
everywhere.
Like a great, great grandparent,
always expected to die,
but still there at the table
for Thanksgiving yet again,
hanging in for the turkey
and dressing and
don't forget
the cranberry sauce.

... by Barbara Wolf (2008)