Apple Spies

The drumming up of little feet
moving of chairs made complete
with water rushing
giggles hushing

Mother waits, unperturbed.

The opening and closing of doors
wind in their hair, mud on the floors
climbing the trees
"Quietly, please!"

Mother requests, unconcerned.

Later confessions reveal
organic apples they would steal
and delight in their prize
apple skins on their eyes

Mother listens, not surprised.

For secretly, Mother always knew,
just what her littles were trying to do,
and quietly delights in their schemes, and sighs,
for Mother secretly loves her Apple Spies.