Egg tempera, 2012

Dimensions: 11” x 14”

This is all that’s left of an old apple tree, once laden with fruit but now just a remnant. Somehow it reminded me of the last lines of William Butler Yeats’ poem, The Song of Wandering Aengus. “…and pluck till time and times are done, the silver apples of the moon, the golden apples of the sun.”