the children move among old apple trees
seeking shifts in elevation to sled
trees so many years burdened
trunks split with weight of un-pruned growth
branches now empty of wormy apples
some dead farmer has left for birds
why do you never come to this field?
the children lose themselves in its abandon
time has died
the sky pulls away from itself
wisps of clouds
in the west
a burning glow beyond the weight of gray
in diminishing light
you walk back
down a road
still muddy
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