"Apple Maker"
          by. . . Nevin Hawlman

'Twas Spring, and frost had left the ground,
of fruit trees planted all around.
I toiled for years, and HOLY COW !; 
my Field looks like a Forest now!!

'Twas time to plant another tree,
no room found, for the life of me!
Must take out BIG one; nearly dead,
when planted, barely reached my head.

With axe in hand, and shovel, too,
the task at hand, I hate to do:
destroy a tree, that helps me live,
with oxygen and fruit they give.

So hungry for an apple; Me,
'twas months since I had picked this tree.
Of yellow apples, in the Fall,
my very favorite, of them all.

A light bulb lit, inside my head;
pursue delightful fruit instead.
I'll find it right inside that tree,
reward ingenious fellow; Me!

And so, I cut a little limb,
in search of yellow apple skin.
I must not have gone deep enough,
to find the crisp Delicious stuff.

So then I cut a bigger limb,
in search of sweetness from within.
Eluded by an apple, plump,
I cut the tree off, at the stump!

But still none fell upon my boots,
and so I started digging roots.
A second bulb lit up in me,
I stood and stared at fallen tree.

The goodness is not kept inside,
but DNA and genes reside.
From ash and dust; Created He,
still makes good apples . . . you and me.

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