These are what remain,
shriveled, small,
the last of the crabapples
left from a fruitful season.
They are winter's remnant,
the dregs that have stayed
through snow and dark,
a final feast in fasting days.
Inside, there is some sweetness,
and the hungry robins know
this goodness may suffice
until another summer comes.
These wrinkled things
will help a heart to beat,
a life grow feathers and fly--
as we may, too,
with our final fruits.
--Timothy Haut, Feb. 26, 2016
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