Farm Poem #21

The low hanging cherries are soon gone,
Eaten on the spot, seeds spit
Everywhere. But looking up, there are

Ten thousand more just out of reach,
A constellation of fruit
Sweetening the sapphire sky.

But. My tallest ladder only goes halfway!
But. There are so many!
One cherry, one cherry, one cherry,

Until the colander—quite spacious—is filled.
And, sighing at the baubled branches
Beyond reach, descending the ladder,

What else, but to discover
An overlooked, solitary cherry,
Only inches from my nose?

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