(Words by The Telling Room’s 2022 Food Writing Camp Participants)
When should you eat an apple?
At the time you want.
In October, after soccer games and flu shots,
after a long day or a chilling winter,
every lunch of your life.
Green, red, yellow—we compared them to a traffic light.
Bramley’s Seedling, Maiden Blush, Westfield Seek-no-Further
I think about how an apple’s beauty softly shines
as I cut it into pieces.
Plump goodness, fruit of origin,
some sweet, others tart,
like people.
Keepsake, Paula Red, Northern Spy
Red and round, green with bruised spots.
The journey that a seed takes is long.
Sacred fruit grows from summer heat,
blossoms into solid, faded autumn light.
Mollie’s Delicious, Sweet Sixteen, Hawkeye
I remember walking through orchards in September.
Apples are tradition, not just
how they are grown, but in the way a family picks them.
Crisp bite still lingers on my tongue.
Tasting an apple connects you to the earth.
A bite of heaven, a taste of love, a texture of home, the smell of life.
How should you eat an apple?
Just as it is—
maybe with a bit of honey.
Editor’s note: The Telling Room is a nonprofit focused on empowering young writers ages 6 to 18 by giving them the tools they need to share their voices with the world. We are honored to have the fruits of their labors here in the pages of edible MAINE. The authors of this poem are Dahlia Hutchinson, Gabbi Smetana, Hunter Dubel, Jamila Mohamed, Len Harrison, Quartz Prescott, Veronica Brown, and Zara Hecht.
