Wednesday, July 16, 2008

"Apples/in winter are a bitter gift."

Just found a couple poems by the poet Daniel Hall. I really like this poem. Not sure what I think about this poem from Amherst Magazine, but I like the line I used as the title.

A Winter Apple

Grateful, I took an apple
from its paper, took it in both
hands, raised it to my lips,
inhaling its myth of open air
and closure—. Then a desire
to swallow space and time,
or to follow them, backward
and forward, endlessly up
and down the macadam, end
over end, back to seed or
on to cider— Not so fast
I pleaded. The heft of it;
the chill sweetness. Apples
in winter are a bitter gift.
I set it down again, entire.

1 comment:

Lucy said...

This is an odd and evocative poem. I like it. And I like the title.

But it's strange that the writer doesn't like apples in winter when they are, hopefully, still good to eat. Often they have gone soggy by spring.

It seems to be the memory of good things the writer is avoiding - but memories brought on by a good tasing apple are warm and delicious.

These contradictions are, in part, why I like the poem.

Lucy Corrander