On my walk later today there will be no apples to pick. But their absence does not preclude dreaming. Unlike the narrator on Robert Frost’s poem “After Apple-Picking,” this year I will not tire of a harvest I had so looked forward to. The trees are bare of apples, but my imagination can fill up a tree with beautiful golden apples any time I wish. Besides, I have a storehouse of memories from previous gatherings.
On this walk I will dream of a country that my friend and I can feel a bit better about. I can think of our potential, the unlimited possibilities that exist when we work together while putting aside differences. Diversity need not breed division. Difference need not breed contempt. Back to the wood-pile.