Applesauce

From a forgotten era,
A sturdy old shovel and rake
Leans against the interior garage wall
Beside the dented trash bin.
An A-frame ladder is stored overhead
And metal pails, now rusted and see-through
Are piled in a corner.
Faded memories of youth
When fruits were cherished and vermin-free.
And under the red-dappled tree
A young man stops to contemplate.
Lazily he leans with one arm on the mower’s handle
And with wrinkled brow makes a decision.
The mower sounds as the engine revs.
Slowly the man begins to push.

© Adrianne Quinlan