cherries are so vulnerable
blinking their way from green
to polished red in trees
guileless to stave off birds
a murmur does its rounds
and when the bright day comes
and ripeness throws its coyness
in the air a seething mesh
of wings and whetted beaks
(knowing its cherry-right)
falls upon the fleshy fruit
and rips it to the stone
then birds become the foe
of people leaden in their legs
who gasp below (fists raised
at butchery so sweet)
nets and scarecrows (clappers
in the wind) disfigure trees
to keep the prize intact
for human beaks to gorge on
cherries in baskets though
are spoils cherished - they spill
their luscious clusters wisely
they crave towards eating
and eaten then restore
round memories of eden
birds are divine messengers
fruits of the world abundant
