Ripe mulberries don’t need plucking
home your hand
beneath the tender humid air of branches &
Beckon
the beseeching softness of fingers
—in call
the berry arrives
—in response
a summersweet yielding to the vessel of your palm.
7 thoughts on "Ripe mulberries don’t need plucking"
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I can taste the berries reading your words!
they are really good this year
The red/white berries in the back back of the rupp arena parking lot…look like hell but they’re the best I’ve tasted. falling everywhere
So sensuous! Strong imagery.
Oooo I love this Renee! Form is great and the opening of “home your hand” with home as a verb is STELLAR! They do just yield, huh? … Can’t wait to write with ya this month. Happy June!
Thank you, so good to see your work!
The spacing and word choice creates a patient, quiet, swaying tenderness. I love all of this one.