The old apple tree .

She shut out the world because of a few bad apples .
She unconsciously doesn’t reap the bounty of an orchard standing proud offering apples like precious heirloom varieties . Each ripe with skins of greens reds and yellows and beneath their skins they offer their own secret taste and flavour nurtured from seedlings by the mud up and blessed with rain . Trees dripping in boundless variety with all irregularities of shape and sizes . How can you logically determine that they are all the same ? . Brokenness of the heart creates biased perceptions. Won’t you meet me at the bottom of the hill and I will show you each offering on my branches are all one off pieces of art . You will be safe enough to take a bite no chemicals or pesticides just time and loving kindness picked from a tree . I hope to see you under the sunrise, my apples glow more rosy than they do in the day shine. I will wait on your footsteps of a new harvest for I heard the echo of your soul it’s sour and you were born for sweetness. Have a bit of faith we are not all the same . Meet me and see . With love from the old apple tree .