plums on high

today I took the ladder
placed it again under the tree,
plotted where and how
to reach the purple orbs.
of course there were holes
where I the day before
had plucked and pulled down
the sweet and heavy fruit
grown almost overripe and
some with withered faces like
senior members of a race.
the tree is fragile and branches
break off as if it is somehow
weary with making leaves and
bundles of fruit. Perhaps it is
protesting the loss of of almost
a half of its bulk from the burning
flames of a negligent neighbor a few
past summers ago
storing his smoldering grill in the
small tool shed which became
enveloped with flames searing
the tree and ruining the harvest
that year or maybe the strong
winds that had raked the garden
this spring.
I stood at the top of the
aluminum scaffolding looking
at the bright late afternoon sun
through some of the openings
left by the wounded branches
seeing how the flatter sun of this
part of the northern hemisphere
gives a perculiar shadowing to
objects like a dutch master´s
painting. Later I steadied the
ladder for my friend who climbed
high up and I just looked around
happy not to do anything.