Green Apple

The Apple Tree by Dorothy Parker
When first we saw the apple tree
The boughs were dark and straight,
But never grief to give had we,
Though Spring delayed so late.

When last I came away from there
The boughs were heavy hung,
But little grief had I to spare
For Summer, perished young.

I went on a wander this afternoon, to my favorite little shooting range, Shipshewana.  I am in the middle of opening and editing what I shot, but had to stop to post this one.  I simply like it.  And it is “as is” from the camera other than a scant sharpen.

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