On An Apple-Ripe September Morning Comments

Exquisite poetry from my favourite writer.

And I thought of the wasps' nest in the bank And how I got chased one day Leaving the drag and the scraw-knife behind, How I covered my face with hay... very fine poem dear poet.

I can smell the apples in the orchard, hear the sound of the thresher and see a picture so clear, i am in a time warp. what brilliance

This is exquisite and relatable for me, growing up is the pastoral old mountains of western PA where ones youth may well have included the odd chore of aiding a neighbor in the fields.