Over a large hearth, two moved slowly,
with the time wealth of long-gathered harvests,
under a sky load of blue-punctured greys.
With slight motion, they nudged the distance,
trespassing the fenced day with a burden-
something they carried, walking gently not to break.
Bone-proud he was, above his woman
of shadows and mouse fingers. Their greetings were tipped
with pin-prick knowledge of other apples.