Low Hanging Fruit

This guilt hangs heavy
Like fruit on the vine
Ripe with future decay
Yet tempting still
As succulent as sin
Waiting for a fire
To cleanse my dry soul
It bends without breaking
Scratches and claws
Always emerging intact
Even though weather scarred
Bruised and brushed aside
This emotional storm
No reservoir in sight
Just some low hanging fruit
Thirsty for desert rain
Pausing as it kisses earth
And finding peace
In the muted shadows
Of that consequence
This low hanging fruit
So heavy on the vine
Anticipating a fall.