An apple falls slowly down, br Hitting the ground with a plop. br It joins others down there, br Waiting for more to drop. br br Sun is rising over the orchard, br Apples, red as a flare. br Yellow jackets fly to them, br Buzzing sounds filling the air. br br A tractor forever mired in weeds, br Rusty and leaning in a brook. br John ‘ eer can be made out br On faded green paint if you look. br br Next to this old tractor stands, br A marble slab that’s worn and gray. br Upon it is engraved a name, br The tractor’s owner beneath the clay.