Feral rats and their penchant for apples

A bounty of verdure
Flushed with sweet Autumn
These fastidious finicy
Discerning souls
They came with their family
To raid the sweet apples
And here was a plethora
And a surfeit of roles

Was had by the elders
Their long tails a swishing
Vocalizations bruxing they be
Clearly bewildered
At what we had done to them
Filled up our bags
With all we could see

A pie of distinction
So full of abundance
Softened by fire
In a sustaining way
Nutritious and wholesome
Moreish and delicious
Let us all drool together
And possibly pay

Our respect to the goddess
For providing the bounty
And our commiserations
To the rats when they found
They lost that collection
They thought had been bestowed on them
Their sampling prowess
Sadly unsound

We had got wind of their
Stealth and their penchant
For sweet Autumn apples
Wih the blush of Mabon
The crispness that frost creates
And that true sweetness
The unctuous intensity that goes on and on

Do wild rats feel the same?
Do they taste as we do?
Are they touched by the lyrical impassioned view
The way that they gnaw with exhuberant ease
Hot headed and bubbly, really does it please
And if so imagine their grief and their pain
Of us getting there first and breaking that chain