Friday poetry challenge: harvest celebration

O fig, where have you been all my life? Dried and tucked inside Newtons, you are dark, dense, and gritty, but it doesn't have to be that way. Suddenly the hardy fig trees we planted eight years ago are producing fruit, and I wouldn't give a fig for a Newton.

Why did I have to wait 50 years to finally taste fresh figs? And how can I describe the experience? The flesh is a tender creamy yellowy-white and the flavor is yellow as well, light and sunshiny like citrus or ripe bananas. And who knew figs could be so juicy? Newtons aren't juicy. Newtons, in fact, are the antithesis of juicy. A fresh fig--now, that's something to celebrate:


Red pendants dangle 
and drop, guarding golden flesh:
paradise on a plate. 

Now it's your turn: submit verse in any form celebrating harvest.