APPLES apples <i> Apples</i>

And I could tell

What form my dreaming was about to take.

Magnified apples appear and disappear

Stem end and blossom end,

And every fleck of russet showing clear.

My instep arch not only keeps the ache,

It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.

I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.

And I keep hearing from the cellar bin

The rumbling sound

Of load of apples coming in.

--Robert Frost, from “After Apple-Picking