The end of the time of apples and the beginning of the time of night

The clocks change and the last bright fruit jewel baubles adorn the tree My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree Toward heaven still, And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill Beside it, and there may be two or three Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough. But I am done with apple-picking now. Essence of winter sleep is on Read more about The end of the time of apples and the beginning of the time of night[…]