Ripening delicacies… <br />with a spectrum that varies <br />in a thorn laden thicket <br />of luscious wild blackberries <br /> <br />Growing among tall <br />free growing weeds <br />strewn with the remains <br />of rain soaked rotting trees <br /> <br />The splendid seedy delectables <br />are gathered with a restrained squeeze <br />cautious not to inflict trauma... <br />placed into a cupped palm with ease <br /> <br />Playful patches of sunlight <br />filter through swaying shade <br />dancing… sporadically, intensifying <br />then tending to dim and fade <br /> <br />Focusing on a twined <br />vine… suddenly becoming aware <br />of aliveness… exhibiting an <br />intent-fully territorial stare <br /> <br />With a backward step <br />it has become quite clear <br />Now is time to conclude <br />berry picking and get out of here <br /> <br />7/1/2010<br /><br />Theresa Ann Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wild-blackberries/
