A frosty walk.

[cidermaid]

2nd edit.

I’m gleaning in the orchards.
The birds have pecked
and hollowed out,
the apple of my sty.
The sky above is empty,
devoid of blessings, free
of doves. Branched and bare.

I’m garnering.
Green glass, frozen shards,
With blades sharp to pierce
and prick my tender parts.
A careless contract,
I’m torn apart. A wounded
hart, bare rooted. *

I’m gathering back, clinging
lichen, a sign, a healthy disposition.
Fieldfares flit and flirt. Beneath
the budding trees, a fruitful flow
that with the sun will rise
and grow. Bearing seeping sap.

* Wanted to keep the bare rooted. Is a deliberate follow through on orcharding. Is a term of preperation for new wood / trees in storage before it is ready for planting out. ( i know that it moves into unacessable symbolism perhaps....but it's only two words ! and i like the imagery of new growth / potential )

1st edit

I’m gleaning in the orchards.
A gain, un-stored. The birds - Do I need I need the comma after gain?
have pecked and hollowed out,
the apple of my sty.
The sky above is empty,
devoid of blessings, free
of doves. Branched and bare.

I’m garnering.
Green glass, frozen shards,
With blades sharp, pierce
and prick my tender parts.
A careless contract,
I’m torn apart. A wounded
heart, bare rooted.

I’m gathering back, clinging
lichen, a sign, a healthy disposition.
Fieldfares flit and flirt. Beneath
the trees flow fruitful thoughts,
that with the sun will rise
and grow. Bearing seeping sap.

original.
A frosty walk.

I’m gleaning in the orchards.
I’m cleaning up. The birds
have pecked and hollowed out,
the apple of my sty.
The sky above is empty,
devoid of blessings, free
of doves. Branched and bare.

I’m gleaning.
Green glass, frozen shards,
With blades sharp, pierce
and prick my tender parts.
A careless contract,
I’m torn apart. A wounded
heart, bare rooted.

I’m gathering back, the clinging
moss and lichen, a healthy
disposition. Fieldfares flit
and flirt. Beneath the trees
flow fruitful thoughts,
that with the sun will rise
and grow. Bearing seaping sap.

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Warning authors note:-
This was written out of a desire to re-write the Not out poem but finding myself unable to process those thoughts I've done a new write in an attempt on the same subject which I hope is more accessable to the reader. I nearly titled this poem "A walk in the now whilst it is called today", but that sounded pretentious and unaccessable and it is frosty this morning and I was out gathering the last few delicious apples from the orchards... which is when i found this rumbling round in my head. so warts n all here it is. I would like to try the next stage of my writing experiance and work on this with your critique as opposed to just stashing the comments for another day. My thanks to TA for the excellent example set on your poem...I'm shamed and inspired by how you worked away on the edits.