The Gorko Gazette

Daily Humor

thegorkogazette

4.6.2026 6:24 AM

Arthur by Bruce Gee

ARTHUR

Arthur the apple man at 62
Born in the thriving
quartzite hills of Baraboo.
He walked like a sailor
come on to dry land
after months at sea,
As if unfamiliar with his footing.

The blue farm house,
the drab grey
concrete sorting shed,
the top of the bluff
overlooking acres of apple trees
and in the distance
in the Summer
The circus calliope echoing
down the wind.

‘Change is the vacation,’ he’d say
at the end of November,
the apples safely picked.
Bins of Macoun, Russet, Wolf River,
Gem Cities, Greening apples.
He hated leaving the place,
Not a greatly loved man in the small town.
Winters spent mending apple boxes
the slow cold pruning of McIntosh trees
the chicken soup from Olga for lunch
listening on the radio
to the Farm Report.

I dropped by for a job at 17,
Are you Bayard Gee’s son?
Hired me on part time
Called me ‘boy’ that whole first season.
After high school I was with him till Xmas
And then ten seasons more.

The glorious hills, the hard routine, the silent
hours bent over our tasks
worked their magic.
A working class bliss that
hung between us,
unspoken.