Random word generated poetry

100 words to inspire a poem for Sunday. My poem follows.

Apple secrets

Deer flit,
shadows amid the shade,
about the glade, sun-warm,
about the pool, cool-deep,

that spills spangles
like leaves
beneath an apple tree,
age-bent, lichen-hoary,

above the sun-glint,
above the water,
and an apple falls,
green-red,

and a fish rises
to taste, to eat,
mouthing secrets,
while I watch

and wonder,
what wisdom
has been learnt this day,
by fish, by me,

as the apple sinks
with its secrets,
and the deer slip
silent away.