Argument, with Fig Tree in Summer

What we can't reach, 
we say we leave 

for the gods 
or the birds. The low-

hanging fruit, 
the heaviest, is always 

ours for the taking. 
Sometimes, the eye drifts 

to the middle levels, where 
smooth bell shapes chime 

their question: how 
will your spirit find its 

destination if it won't
venture out of itself?