who has time
to look up for branches
laden with tempting fruit,  
to pick one
when ripe and bursting
with the knowledge: we are alone  

‘tis all I can do to dig in the dirt  
to plant hopeful seeds in greedy ground  
to pray for water left from the flood  
to watch and wait for fall’s fickle bounty
to fill bellies and end this primal ache

let others speak of the serpent  
they blame for their demise  
and look for rapture, in roiling black skies  
I want my god to be of light and sun  
though I know this is not to be
for the fruit picker ******* things
for you, and for me