OUTSIDE AT NIGHT IMAGE / SOCIAL PROTEST
by Denise Hickey Winter 85
I remember walking through
the quiet wilderness
when it was my new home.
A fruit-filled scent
wafted to our noses
before we could see where we were.
I could vaguely detect
apple boughs
dozens of them
interlacing in the quiet darkness.
Who was to know
we walked here now?
Who would know
long after the scent of apple air
disappeared?
"good"
