I love to go out in late September <br />among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries <br />to eat blackberries for breakfast, <br />the stalks very prickly, a penalty <br />they earn for knowing the black art <br />of blackberry-making; and as I stand among them <br />lifting the stalks to my mouth, the ripest berries <br />fall almost unbidden to my tongue, <br />as words sometimes do, certain peculiar words <br />like strengths or squinched, <br />many-lettered, one-syllabled lumps, <br />which I squeeze, squinch open, and splurge well <br />in the silent, startled, icy, black language <br />of blackberry -- eating in late September.<br /><br />Galway Kinnell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blackberry-eating/
