My kitchen table standing on the ground

covered with hardwood floor.

Pouring rain came down from the sky pounding on my door.

I wanted to go apple picking but the rain had stopped my  plans.

I fell asleep sitting at my table wishing for the essence of the winter fruit,

on my hands and in the air.

I saw the fair

color of the fruit in my dream,

the rain has stopped. I want to wake and take a chance to apple pick.

Driving to the apple orchard, a dark black cloud loomed closer.

The sky looked void of light but a faint sense of sun trimming clouds behind me.

The rain must hold off while I am apple picking.

Getting nearer to the farm the rain was kicking

On the windshield. And then it hailed, sleeted, and snowed.

Suddenly, it sprinkled. Can there be hope to have the rain warded off to some place far?

Arriving near the orchard it was only sprinkling. Waiting in the car,

at the Apple orchard it kept sprinkling. Can it stop, can it stop?

Looking to the sky, the colors of the spectrum formed before my eyes.

Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet, tied

together  in a natural bow , each more vivid than the one before, into full perfection.

The sprinkling began to stop, I could pick the apples I desired.

Picking apples from the barrels in the sprinkling rain taken by  the shining sun…

The rest is apple-picking fun.