We picked all we could reach – 

low hanging fruit

nourishes those who can pick it – 

juice running down chins and sticky fingers holding over flowing baskets

our job is done,

we spy more golden orbs framed by the sky

but their sweetness is too high

(did I mention our baskets were full)

but some, bellies full, still hungered for more.

Winged masked bandits, golden soft,

from aloft they wax wing it

to the fruit.

The tree is aflutter, a banquet – a feast

for angels incognito .

We are blessed.

each to the fruit within reach.

Give thanks for the sweetness,

look – your basket is full!