Apples cover the ground
like red ruby candy
I hear the chug of the tractor
as it drives out of the orchard
Trailer full of fallen fruit
Outside the old farm house
apples are being washed
Tossed into the hopper
Grounded to their essence
Round and round the press goes
Releasing nectar into the flow
One golden glass is
Enough to raise a toast
to New England
on an October day
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