The Apple Pie Tree: Fighting Crime with Poetry

Nothing says, "fall" like Autumn's Alchemy by irenesuchoki. I would like to frame this on my wall ...

Tomorrow is the day my family will go to the orchard and pick apples, snap photos, and carve pumpkins. I'm just a wee bit excited. This pilgrimage has become a tradition that ranks up there next to holidays of the most appreciated kind. So I wrote a poem ...

'Twas the night before family day and all through my house,
Every creature was stirring--my son and my spouse.
The buckets were set by the front door with care,
In hopes that tomorrow our apples would go there.

My son was now nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of apple pies danced in his head.
I'm not in a 'kerchief; Luke's not in a cap,
But it sure would be nice to settle back for a nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Over to the window I flew like a flash,
Ripped up the blinds and knocked over the trash.

The moon on the breast of newly-cut grass
Gave lustre to the car to which I never give a pass.
When, what to my wandering eyes should I see,
But a group of kids teepeeing a tree.

They spoke not a word, but went straight to their work,
And filled up the yard with a toss and a jerk.
They jumped in their car and off on their way,
It happened so fast I had nothing to say.

So back to the couch and back to the dreams.
I'm Googling pies and apples and creams.
I nearly exclaimed as they drove out of sight,
"Tomorrow is family day!" So to all a good-night!