It Is Very Far North

Four giddy days are all that spring allows

the drunken bumblings of our honey bees

before a south wind, stripping petalled boughs,

turns apples into ordinary trees.

Ours have weathered blizzards, freezing rain,

a record flood crest, and a May snow squall.

Now only scab, inchworms, and hail remain

to rob us of an ample apple fall,

a brief lifting of limbs before the snow

grips them with such reluctance to let go.

Timothy Murphy

From Very Far North, The Waywiser Press,
London, England, © 2002.  Reprinted by
permission of the author.