Apple sonnets

Apple Picking

I reach up to the branch above
With apples thumping on the ground.
Bright green and small consumed with love
Some brown but good still all around.
They’re sour and crunchy to the bite
Just perfect for some apple treat
I fill my bucket now with flight
I rush before the deer I greet.

The sun sets - apples, heavy weighed,
Peach, fluffy clouds hang o’er the tree.
The night-time dew rests on the blade, 
My loot the kitchen now will see.
With oats, sugar, flour, and salt
A fine dessert we’ll soon exalt.

Apple Crisp

Peeling, slicing on the board
Our hands dissect the sweet, sweet spheres.
These treasured fruits we often hoard
And carve into long tasty spears.
To stop the brown with lemon juice
we drizzle on each precious piece,
And toss with sugar to produce
A mix to make our cravings cease.

With butter slathered on the pan
We toss the tangy pome delight
Into a mould where oats will tan,
And soon warm bubbles we will sight. 
Crumbly crust a syrup hides,
Into our mouths this treat now slides.

- By David P. Viazmenski