Pruner -Somerset Skyline

Somerset Skyline

The look of Apple trees in Winter

Their Spiny fingers

Bud knuckles

Ladders of nearly buds grapple

The cold sky like hooks

Whose black blue bruise

Of storm clouds roll in on the horizon

And they claw at it

Apple trees are thought of so innocently, happily

But Apples were in the Garden of Eden

The knowledge of Good and Evil

The Fruit that gives this knowledge

As alive and promiscuous as anything

World changers

And when I prune them

Am I cutting back the tree of knowledge

Hurting the chances of this bursting secret?

Its branches never fall freely they grapple

Unlike the apple

The limbs of thought like ideas in a brain

Interweave, hook and thread on new neurons

The old memories are cut away

To make room for new

The buds are nodes the chance of new connections

In an infinity of chemical reactions of the air and the tissue

Material of earth is sculpted by the brain tree into its new thought

Its atmosphere of the moment

The pattern of their branch shadows

And the crinkle of their oval leaves underfoot

The pages their ideas are written on

Lying open to the sky

And the precious fruit

Inviting you to try