0414

the fallen apple gets full of worms to melt into the ground,
with birds flying over in the light as then the darkness begins to surround,
screeches of bats then dropping fruit in thuds of hard seed,
a creeping vine grips the tree circling by the taking weed,
fluttering wings of bugs hitting the light that glows,
as the white of the moonlit water flows,
fog blankets over as the sun ignites the sky,
warming the sleeping and turning wet to dry,
the remains of the apple rot for little bugs to eat,
woken to a morning to the birds singing tweet.