My walks are becoming a moveable feast

what with windfall apples and pears at the least.

Half a mile north is the house with the tree

drooping  over the sign reading, “Pick figs.  They’re free.”

Over this fence crawls a bramble of berries.

In that vacant lot is a tree full of cherries.

Next to the street in the shade of the trees

is a pile of zucchini with a note, “Take some.  PLEASE.”

You’re bombarded with plums if you stroll down that hill.

Hanging over the sidewalk is fennel and dill.

Don’t steal a tomato.  That’s really so rude

when, wherever you turn, you’re surrounded by food.

I can snack my way out, and then nibble back home.

It’s a moveable feast, wherever I roam.


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