//------------------------------//
// Beyond the Leaves 
// Story: Sentimentality: The Poems of Equestria 
// by GhostWriter17 
//------------------------------//

Beyond the Leaves

A poem by: GhostWriter17

****

Every day that I work, I feel a warmth.
It grows inside me, filling my heart.

I wake up to sights so beautiful.
The sun rises as my eyes open, its orange light engulfing me in warmth.

My sister, she sleeps, for only a few more hours.
Then she, too, must rise for the coming day.

My brother downstairs awaits my arrival.
Ready for the work we must do.

Granny, she is old, humbled.
Her age gives her wisdom, despite her slipping mentality.

We look at the hills, the fields that are to be worked.
An orange glow illuminates all around us.

I take a breath, and retrieve the buckets.
Macintosh prepares to till the fields.

I begin with what is good, ripe, and fresh.
I search for trees with only the best apples.

I come across the perfect tree.
Its fruit is thick, its branches healthy.

I turn, placing a few buckets on the ground.
Then, I prepare the first act of the day.

I shift my weight, pressing down on my forehooves.
Looking back, I carefully judge the distance.

With concentration, my weight shifts again. 
I press into the ground, muzzle near the earth.

Then, lifting my hind legs, I press back.
Pushing backward, I hit the tree with immense force.

My strike is precise, exactly calculated.
The shock shakes the tree and its fruit loose.

My body shakes from the force as I exhale.
The satisfaction of fine work, is more than worth the pain.

My heart pounds, thumping with excitement.
The apples are in the baskets, perfectly arranged.

Smiling, I repeat this process.
Until my sister wakes up, and breakfast is served.

The family eats together in the morning light.
The company of others gives me glee.

Sister is taken to school.
Escorted by my brother, he protects her.

And so I resume my duties, bucking trees through the day.
All the while, having a smile on my face.

The work is hard, the technique is rigorous.
But the sweat and pain are more than worth it.

I wish to see my friends today, but most likely won't.
For we must make cider, for the season to come.

But I am not lonely, I have the solitude of nature around me.
The wind whispers wisdom into my eager soul.

The leaves, they are gentle, the birds, they are jolly.
Nature gives me purpose, it is my companion.

Doing a service, for my humble town.
That, to me, is what life is all about.

At the end of the day, we sit in the glow of the sun.
It sets along the horizon, majestic in its glory.

I climb in bed, comfortable, but aching.
Another hard day of work, gone by quickly.

I lay down my hat.
Father gave it to me.

I miss him.
I miss mother dearly.

Celestia is kind, a great ruler.
But why must she let tragedy strike?

I am honest, because others are not.
I know the truth, others don't.

Care for others, that's what he said.
But even brother knows not of what happened back then.

I shall not tell.
Not break a promise.

But, even with my love, I hate mother and father.
Had it not happened, Granny would not be senile.

How fate can be dark, I do not understand.
But what's done is done, and that's that.

My bones sink into the bed, I breathe a sigh.
Drifting off to sleep, I dream of tomorrow, and what it may bring.