The sibilant sound of the ripe apple falling off the trees are amplified in the perfect stillness of our homestead at Anten:
Sweet apples in their ripe prime
nature’s rites elegant
Summer brings on its show time:
Hark, plunges eloquent!
When weighed down by their sap
apples’ tender stems snap
They drop in sound sibilant
flight path most fleetingly
in wind stirred up jubilant
by apple subtlety
Amidst silence distinctly
a falling apple’s thud
shall be echoed succinctly
even on grass or mud
Every Summer’s wondrous story
no event purely perchance
but of perfect trajectory
part of nature’s flawless dance
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-Anten = a small community by the lake with the same name near Alingsås