Seen and Unseen Apple Trees

I see the apple tree. It’s dark-gray and brown, ridged bark, with Y-shaped branches splitting upward like outstretched arms from its knotted trunk. Its leaves fill every branch. The 2 x 4 Dad and I nailed onto the trunk below the split, so Frankie could plant his foot to climb it.

I see him in it. And us playing tag in the backyard using this apple tree as a base. I hear his laughter and shouts as I tickle him while he stands between the branches.

I don’t see another apple tree in a small yard next to a concrete patio. One with a similar, Y-shaped split branch growing from a similar knotted trunk. One that also possessed a full canopy, and up which I climbed and played with Dean and other friends.

robin songs    an unflowered apple tree    awaits autumn

 

Photo by Kai Dörner

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Frank J. Tassone

Frank J. Tassone lives in New York City's "back yard" with his wife and son. He fell in love with writing after he wrote his first short story at age 12 and his first poem in high school. He began writing haiku and haibun seriously in the 2000s. His haikai poetry has appeared in Failed Haiku, Cattails, Haibun Today, Contemporary Haibun Online, Contemporary Haibun, The Haiku Foundation and Haiku Society of America member anthologies. He is a contributing poet for the online literary journal Image Curve, and a performance poet with Rockland Poets. When he's not writing, Frank works as a special education high school teacher in the Bronx. When he's not working or writing, he enjoys time with his family, meditation, hiking, practicing tai chi and geeking out to Star Wars, Marvel Cinema and any other Sci-Fi/Fantasy film and TV worth seeing.

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