A Pome a Day for a Year

The arch is deep and we are enclosed,
warmed by hues of ochre
delayed by flashes of burnt vermillion,
the journey plods and pulls
and our minds wander in parallel;
snails pass us by.

Personal tombs, overflowering
with flourishes humouring sensibilities,
provide welcome nuture
in opposition to man made nature,
as we mimic driftwood,
swaying back and forth on the tides
of routine erosion.