survival

two singular apples faded and worn

tugging down a slim, dry branch of a tree at death’s door

a sliver of ice creasing at its corners

a shade of chartreuse against hints of chestnut

heavy flurries of snow that threaten to destroy them

pelt down against the tree devastated from winter

the tree sags under the weight of deluging snow

an avalanche of white against brown

cracking, tearing, fracturing

solid parts that were once a part of a lonely tree

cover the landscape of a soft blanket of snow

but look closer and the eye will see

that the two singular apples faded and worn

are still there.