Two Green Apples

Two green apples
pocked with tiny brown
bullet-holes
lie on the damp morning
grass
diminutive first-fruits
of what promises to be
a good harvest
but we’ll have to share
several of them with
the burrowing moths
who also know
this garden as home
- God is their real
estate agent –
and probably their ancestors
have a stronger claim
than we
(with our deeds of title)
to be tangata whenua of
this patch of earth.