Peeling an Apple in Autumn

The soul-satisfying pleasure of spirals

Photo by Jonathan Cosens Photography on Unsplash

I am not one of those gifted ones
whose steady hands peel an apple
in one long, sinuous spiral

that slides with tangy-sweet grace
to the cutting board scarred from years
of sharp-bladed, energetic knives.

My awkward hands
leading with my left,
backed by my tentative right,

can produce nothing but small,
chunky half-curls, dragging with them
more of the apple’s flesh

than a gifted chef could tolerate
in her admirable, efficient
well-stocked and shining kitchen.

But the hands of us both, peeling apples
in our separate spheres of influence,
will achieve something remarkable,

releasing into the house-tethered air
The soul of the apple, its autumnal scent
flooding our mind with memories

of other times, other apples,
other moments
solitary or shared