first frost -
the shell of a cicada
still clings to the grape vine
-by Hilary Tann
afterward
the pear at her lip- a plucked grape -
slightly bruised some part of itself
still on the stem
-by willard
-by Laura Young
ripening grapes-
so taut under his touch autumn wind -
her swollen belly the last pear is just falling
in my neighbour's garden
-by Neca Stoller
-by Dr. Juergen Peterle
one last look
the ripe pear still hangs eating a pear
over the neighbor's fence in the dark orchard
new moon
-by Yu Chang
-by Miller, Paul D
gathering chestnuts-
among the brittle leaves turning away
last year's birthday doll from the pear tree --
turning back
-by Neca Stoller
-by roberta beary
cathedral bells . . .
the chestnut vendor's on forest floor
steaming cart among decaying leaves
a single chestnut
-by Michael Dylan Welch
-by Hiromichi Watari
crisp winter morning
alone on the naked tree seedless grapes
a wrinkled pear clings in a wooden bowl --
the wet receipt
-by Martin Peacock
-by Michael Dylan Welch
sun through bare branches -
the snail's bright path through autumn evening
fallen chestnuts smoke from the chestnut vendor
stings my eyes
-by Harold Bowes
-by Hilary Tann
setting sun --
in her apron pocket paper cones
a stolen grape full of roasted chestnuts
warming their hands
-by Miller, Paul D
-by Ferris Gilli
on the windowsill
five green pears full moon
each missing one bite over bare grape vine
faint howl
-by Joann Klontz
-by Hiromichi Watari
red grapes
dusted with sugar cold and wet with dew
her shy smile heavy grapes catch the first light
tractor engine starts
-by Ferris Gilli
-by Martin Peacock
wind tousles your hair
on my old street the grape's vines grasp
the smell of chestnuts the walnut's branches-
year after year
-by Yu Chang
-by Juanito Escareal
canning pears
peelings on the floor open fruit stall --
jars in a row bees gathering
at the purple grapes
-by Patricia A. Laurent
-by Eric Solibakke
like day, these wild grapes
passed through rainbows of color chestnut shade --
toward purplish blackness the fox's
fleeting shadow
-by Dennis Holt
-by Eric Solibakke
first light -
a cardinal plucks wooded path --
the ripest grape smooth beneath my thumb
a chestnut's skin
-by Mark Alan Osterhaus
-by AC Missias
pear blossoms
and the sound of crickets . . . then stay gnats -
still I hurry on feast on the pear juice
matting my beard
-by Joseph Kirschner
-by Doris D. Kasson
morning sun --
striped by window blinds under the pear tree -
pears in a bowl pale blossoms in her dark hair,
bright stars in the sky
-by Michael Dylan Welch
-by Noor Singh Khalsa
along with the street's kids
i kick chestnuts in the bottle
like a kid of pear-brandy
imprisoned pear
-by gilles fabre
-by Mirko Varga
one last pear
from her backyard tree ... her breath visible
'sale pending' she plucks wild grapes
still green and small
-by Joann Klontz
-by ken kuniyuki
with my tongue
crushing a grape on my palate - the chestnuts are
the coolness about to cry out on the charcoal
silence between you and me
-by Tom Genovese
-by Kimiyo Tanaka
too much fun to eat
she rolls it with her nose - shadows within
a puppy's first grape the pale-green grapes -
lightning flashes
-by Tom Genovese
-by Dhugal J. Lindsay
evening shade -
in the beer garden on the schoolyard's edge
children gather chestnuts one child
pockets chestnuts
-by Doris D. Kasson
-by Joann Klontz
November wind blows keen
snowflakes dance in the streetlight a chestnut,frozen
roasted chestnuts! whatever was it
made me kick it ?
-by Martin Peacock
-by gilles fabre
as she walks away. . .
the last of the ripe pears in my jacket pocket
cupped in my hand a single chestnut
rattles in its shell
-by Charles M Rossiter
-by ken kuniyuki
pears on a table
still chairs dewy grapes
cricket in the night on steaming vines
the morning sun
-by Hiromichi Watari
-by marius geerts
ripened by the sun
the grape will now be eaten - table set for one -
explosion of life a single grape
rolls out of sight
-by Karo Edge
-by Mark Alan Osterhaus
late summer harvest
succulent yellow pear crushing grapes
dripping on new shirt even the sky
turns purple
-by Gary Barnes
-by willard
picking yellow pears
warm from the sun your not quite roundness
she tastes a raindrop defeats my pencil again -
grape, I shall eat you
-by Ferris Gilli
-by Julian Edge
one by one . . .
picked by the vintner himself, how satisfying--
the last shriveled grapes that first pear that first grape
that first chestnut
-by Charles Trumbull
-by Charles M Rossiter
cool morning --
on the white table fiery sunrise -
one sunlit pear pear blossoms
tipped with pink
-by AC Missias
-by Richmond D. Williams
a golden pear
in a white china bowl An ant looks up,
placed in the family shrine a grape
eclipses the sun.
-by ken kuniyuki
-by Dennis H. Fukushima, Jr.
old chestnut seller
hunkered against snow flurry thin overcoat
smiles, stirring hot coals in a deep pocket
warm chestnuts
-by Gary Barnes
-by willard
chattering starlings
fly off as one after the harvest
lone pear tree a misshapen pear
near the trunk
-by Anne Rutter
-by Paul MacNeil
peeling grapes
soft green flesh I bite into a cold pear
against my lips the juice is piercing through my heart
he is leaving
-by Carolyne Rohrig
-by Kimiyo Tanaka
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