The Apple Pickers

The Apple Pickers

Lisa McCabe

Targeting the topmost branches,
in three quick steps he climbs the ladder,
grasps the last rung with his free hand,
the other hoisting up his daughter

who leans out to pick the reddest apple
that hangs there like a chancel light; its glow
bright, inviolable, enchanted
with what she seeks but does not know.

And he would hold her there forever;
taut, all potential, unaware
of good and evil, sweet and bitter,
tethered between the earth and air.

She strains to pluck her piece of heaven.
He turns in fear of heights unspoken.
She will not slip from grace or tree tops.
He stoops to save the bruised and broken.

---

Lisa McCabe
Poet & Writer

Lisa lives in Lahave, Nova Scotia. She has poetry and essays in various online and print journals including The Sewanee Review, Better Than Starbucks, The North American Anglican, Trinity House Review, The Dark Horse Magazine, Front Porch Republic, and The Orchards Poetry Journal.

Photography by Zen Chung