![]() ![]() Seen from the roadside the tree is untouched, a virgin To the tooth to the eye, globed, rosy beauties.Īll the pitiful few we could reach we’ve picked, but The stern tough tree’s loaded with glossy apples, When the soft fruit long has let go and fallen, Leaves, or just as likely you find that you areįrom the bough. Hard to separate cleanly! Our other applesĬling to the branches. Partly hidden, bluejay-pecked, squirrel-nibbled, To high grasses, ditches, to lie, wet, rosy, Striped with sweetness, fragrant and lambent, by mid-įalling even on utterly windless days in. We have two, and one of them ripens early, Sappho, of the numberless kinds of apples Their two mysteries mingle in this: deferral Seem to press, to promise, half hiding, showing Sustenance: her V’s are unfilled, her fingers Not on the children (are these the couple’s children?) ![]() ![]() Sleeps while Mother’s keeping a watchful eye out Seems the merest eyeflick away from over. Here in this vague green valleyĭo the little faunlets call Mars their Daddy?Įither way, his answer is not forthcoming.ĭrained by amorous combat, the god is elsewhere. Gleefully through his corselet, their behaviorĪll for nothing. Naughty toddlers, trying on Mars’s helmet,īlowing conches into his ear, or crawling Head thrown back neck, shoulders, torso open. Ly her left hand seems to be plucking one moreĮntry between her waist and her knee. Wait: This painting is an enormous V-ness. Point to partings, leading the eye to where her Gold tape gently billowing with her breathing, ![]()
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