To R

August by Mary Oliver

When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns, I spend

all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is. In the dark
creeks that run by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.


Ross said…
Thinking of you today. -Ross xxoo
Steven Anthony said…
pic and words, beautiful.
SteveA said…
I love berries but never thought of it that way! ummm

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