I’ve written of black raspberries again. 
It seems 
each bite’s a step toward childhood, 
their seedy sweetness colors tongue, time’s lens. 
Well worth the risk of poison ivy’s itch, 
I reach on tiptoe—one hides beneath a leaf. 
I reach on tiptoe—one hides beneath a leaf, 
well worth the risk of poison ivy’s itch. 
Their seedy sweetness colors tongue, time’s lens, 
each bite’s a step toward childhood. 
It seems 
I’ve written of black raspberries again.