The Apple Barn
He lived alone by the old apple barn
after being released from confinement
he was happy except
in the extreme heat of the early autumn days
when the bees would hoard all of the honey
and dive into the barrels of warm cider he made
like aero-stuntmen from the old days.
He’d cuss and leave them to it
the bees would fall drunk around him
on the sweetness of the cider
He lived alone by the old apple barn
gathering apples where they fell
watching the stars on summer nights
Steering his dreams by moonlight
after being released fromconfinement
He was happy except
in the extreme heat of the early autumn days
When memories bobbed up and dived
so many leftover dreams
when he lived alone by the old apple barn
Elaine Reardon 
This is a powerful, emotional poem. I loved it, and I ached a bit while reading it. Thank you.
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Thanks, Phyllis. Yes, that’s a good description, I ache a bit each time I read it, too. I imagine him out here, chilled these last few nights with the frost, looking out. Interestingly, the end photo of the door was taken at the Mass MOCA complex, an old factory setting for a new museum.
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