Propped Apple Tree

Its branches bowed with fruit, the tree
affirms its stations of growth at the altar
of ripeness, each apple a witness to its
miracle, beyond all mischief now except the
schism of broken boughs. I bring
sticks and boards to defend the tree
in its virtue. How ridiculous it looks
shored up against the wind’s temptation,
dead wood propped under living limbs,
heresies supporting the true faith.