She said No to the whole shebang
then disappeared into trees, and He 
made up some unconvincing story
there at forest’s edge and crowned himself. 

Well, every story’s true to someone,
so says my counselor and so say the headlines.
That’s the times we live in.

The apple tree I planted 
has grown in all directions. 
Generous rains have fed

a cluster of new leaf and twig.

Sepals, pollens, petals —
these are the ravishments and plot twists
she will never escape. Nor will I.

Only this morning, I touched
the center of my own astonishment
and there she was again.

[Author of five collections of poetry and winner of a Pushcart Prize, over the years Sarah Sadie has served as poetry editor, teacher, Madison Poet Laureate, and judge for various contests. Currently she grows tomatoes in buckets, makes homemade ice cream, and writes poems. She lives perched between two rivers and next door to the Baraboo Ridge, and writes An Inviting Space on Substack..]