A Wild Apple a Day
It was wild. The apple on the tree. It was wild and free. In more ways than one, it was free. It wasn't pretty, that's for sure. It was a little lopsided. And the skin wasn't perfect. It was blemished. I can pretty much guarantee that at least one bug had crawled over its surface. Who knows, there could have been hundreds. And it hung on the end of the branch. All by itself. So I put it out of its misery. I picked it and ate it. And it was so good. Crunchy and delicious and sweet. It was a lot like a gala. Maybe it was a gala. I don't really know. What I do know is that I'll be hitting that tree up for a few more.