Rebellion On his deathbed he remembers A day when he was younger When he lay under apple trees On his grandfather’s farm Despite the whole world Yelling at him To get up Sit up Sign up Shut up He watched the clouds drift Through the branches From which unripe apples hung And though it wouldn’t have looked like it To anyone watching him Had anyone been watching him It was his own private rebellion Against everything he’d been told mattered In time he rolled over On one elbow Got up Brushed himself off Went in But he never forgot that day He remembers it even now Lying on his deathbed As if under apple trees
I know the feeling. It’s apple time on Arroyo Road.