When so many clamor for the sun?
Here it must be said
that there are never enough apples
for hungry old men like me
Never too much life
On the eve of winter's passing
So go on now to the apple tree
And I will wait beside her
How we will laugh when you emerge
as another apple blossom
ripening before my eyes
Whiskey Rivers
Vermouth Valleys
and blossoms bursting rum
I'm awash in wild amazement
of all the world's stills
no sober son could love
