Apples Everyway

Green, red, the range, on a stick, a stem.

With dry crisp leaves on the ground, left there.

A bird might bite if peckish, caterpillar crawl.

Nibble ´till nothing, what a sight in slow mo´.

Deformed can still be delicious, get juiced.

Piles of possibilities, widths in a dehydrated mix.

Pitch- swing- hit- and combust- compost.

There, they´re everywhere anyway, seed on.

#ApplesEveryway