the first blackberries of the year
were bitter relief hanging right there,
off an unexpected brier sprung up
underneath of the kitchen window.
there were a few good fat ones, too.
glowing dark and lush
against the trailer’s underpinning
they mocked me beautifully
after i’d scoured two ridges
on the hunt for fruit, foraging hard, desperate to find a pie
along a dirt road.
i never can seem
to keep ahead of the critters.
eager, i tromped down the grass
and picked them all,
careful not to drop a one,
forgetful of bare feet
and lurking copperheads.
i popped the whole handful into my mouth, greedy in the sunshine,
and I puckered up, tight,
and let out a holler that echoed
and scattered a flight of doves.