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​Apple Orchard, Villerville, France

Poetry by Roger Camp
On the Normandy coast,
far from Omaha beach,
a hillside garden of apple trees
reflect the Atlantic’s October light.

We dine on a salad of fresh corn,
walnuts, parsley, butter lettuce
and greens,
followed by white chicken in cider,
finishing with a tarte au poivre
on a bed of burnt sugar.

As we depart,
drowsed by cider,
D day a dim memory,
it is the fallen green apple
uneaten on the stone steps
that stills me.

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Roger Camp

Roger Camp lives in Seal Beach, California where he gardens, walks the pier, plays blues piano, and spends afternoons with his pal, Harry, over drinks at Nick’s on 2nd. When he’s not at home, he’s traveling in the Old World. His work has appeared in Poetry East, North American Review, Southern Poetry Review, and Pank.

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  • Home
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