An apple tree

I wish to be an apple tree. In early Spring they put cow manure around my roots. Roses in a flower bed receive horse fertilizer, and because it is scarce, at least rabbits' droppings. When I am in bloom all couples are kissing under my blossoms, or even doing something worse. I need only bees and bumblebees for that. Children are climbing on the top of the tree to try to eat green apples and, how clumsy they are, they brake my branches. "I tell you all the time: don't climb the trees." Children bellies have rash from sour apples. "Wait, till' be ripe, then you may harvest them all. They are for you and deer anyway. Only leave a few for the birds, so they could sing for you at Spring time." Children do not listen. They pick all apples and do not leave anything for the birds - as usually. Not even a single apple fallen under the tree. I am the apple tree. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann March 2013