Sympathy

The deer don't come to the apple trees.
The apples never fell
because they never grew this year.
A mystery, like the empty vines
beneath which there's no Concord stain.
Probably it's drought,
but it's right by the house where he now lives alone,
and I agree with the neighbor who walks a dog
that one absence might make other things go missing
in sympathy. I wonder if the lawn and street
miss the company of fruit.

October 28 2015