Wednesday, January 10, 2007

High Summer Far Away

Late July, Norton Island

This clear-washed morning

I have become,
quite unexpectedly,

Queen of raspberries.

This Sunday I do not share
lingering along the mud-rutted weed-wracked path
bowl of blue sky above
the cup of my palm

Pleasure replaced by pleasure
no surfeit in this moment

This moment caught in fire-bright jewelweed tangled up the vines
open throats lapped with nectar and
the thrust of bees.

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