Since Loana has taken
to spoiling winged friends
with 20 kilo bags
of certified organic seed,
there has been less need
to ransack our trees
so the windfalls
have been unusually bountiful.

Ed is being mobbed
like Santa handing out candy
at supermarket mall.
As we walk amongst the flock,
green bucket chock-a-block
with sun-ripened apples,
dropping and squashing
them, then moving on,
so all get a chance.

Every once in while
when head-butted too hard,
or feeling paparazzied,
Ed lobs or bowls a few
into the next paddock.
Then there's
frenzied rugby-hoof-panic
and croquet-like antics
as apples roll between legs
or are dirty-nosed away 
from other competitors.

The last are lobbed in wide arc -
smoke-screen to slip away,
though some are not fooled
and hot-foot after, regardless
and one cheeky ewe manages
to follow me through gate
so I hug her round neck,
swivel-lift and redirect back.

The look on her face says -
'Can't blame me for trying.'

How could you not laugh?