those apples we picked
we picked together
this year who can save them

a three canon salute
smacks the breathing
from the steel cold air

a hail storm
spins the scarecrow
to show all his anger

waving goodbye
a sea breeze billows

migrating geese
the toddler points to
their flight-ways home

the butterfly farm
our daughter whispers
to one on her nose

rustling cornfield
leaving the scarecrow
in my old winter coat

our Sunday hymns
the pedal organ
getting up to speed

the afternoon flags
a windmill
flashes the sun

waterfall spray
all the mist drops
in her hair shines