I favor smaller apples because I eat the core and all.
Although committed to the task,
I’ll readily admit that there is always a bite or two
that you have to chew without pleasure,
generally due to the starchiness.
It helps if you don’t bite down on the seeds,
which will tinge even the sweetest
ambrosia apple with bitterness.
I employ skills chewing sunflower seeds,
honed in countless baseball dugouts,
applying the basic oral dexterity.
I spit in hopes a few might take root.
Am I a modern Johnny Appleseed?
Will my projections from the windows of cars
grow into trees along a highway?
There was a seed I recently spat at a trailhead,
my daughter gently buried it.
When finished, she gave the dirt a blessing
— pat, pat —
before running into the woods.
Seeds of her laughter, the dappled light,
O, the Lord’s been good to me.
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