Five Years

Digging deep, spreading roots,
new soil, compost on top, around the sides,
a bucket of water, two sturdy stakes, twine;
my hands dirty, my shovel muddy---
And I wait.

More water when its hot, pulling a weed or two,
Retying the twine, after the storm--
And I wait.

Spraying copper and sulfur, a clear winter day
until the bark almost shines, a dusty, metallic blue green
I smile, knowing the buds will be ready
when spring comes--
And I wait.

Taller, more branches, bigger leaves
More spray, this time diluted
summer strength,
more water, and it grows
and I wait.

This summer, more leaves,
now taller than I am, finally
three apples,
dark red, not yet big enough
but almost
ready.

8/09