Blackberry

It's early yet for picking, Only one black kiss At the end of pinky clusters, First fruit, Faceted like flies' eyes. The biggest are up too high, In too far, where snakes live. Somebody could lose their balance, Fall inside. Somebody could get trapped in brambles. She used to go blackberrying. At five o'clock on summer mornings, She'd put on Dad's old overalls with the Legs rolled up. The rattle of buckets and baskets. We scorned her jams. "Can't we Have jam from the store instead?" Matching our distain to guilt at the Sun-red face Returning, the long scratches on her arms. She's gone now but the scene replays, Greenberry, whiteberry, redberry, black! Like part of a promise held out; the rest is Mine to keep. I see berry, berry, berry until I sleep.