two singular apples faded and worn
tugging down a slim, dry branch of a tree at death’s door
a sliver of ice creasing at its corners
a shade of chartreuse against hints of chestnut
heavy flurries of snow that threaten to destroy them
pelt down against the tree devastated from winter
the tree sags under the weight of deluging snow
an avalanche of white against brown
cracking, tearing, fracturing
solid parts that were once a part of a lonely tree
cover the landscape of a soft blanket of snow
but look closer and the eye will see
that the two singular apples faded and worn
are still there.
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