Like a thick cluster of ripe Concord grapes
The blueberries hung on the bush
Eager for my grasp, their liberation from the stalk
Drop, the fall into the can,
Hung like a horse’s feed bag around my neck
Sticky lush flesh clutched, grasped
Gingerly between my fingers
Don’t want to lose one
Smell the warm August air ‘round me
Drink the quiet of the farm
Forget time, other urgencies of life
Hunt for each bit of fruit
Hidden by branch and leaf
Treasures to be savored later
Monarch and dragonfly join my reverie
Break the stillness of the haze
Eager for the sweet harvest too
August 16, 2005 13:29
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 18,720+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Berries
Labels:
air,
blueberries,
branches,
butterflies,
dragonfly,
Faith,
fingers,
fruit,
God,
harvest,
hope,
leaves,
life,
monarch butterflies,
Nature,
New Hampshire,
Poetry Where You Live,
ripe,
smells,
treasure
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