Hand-picked, small
blackberries
each one fully-ripe,
cool in the take-out coffee cup,
sitting in the dark fridge.
Open and inviting,
calling me to pick,
crimson stain on my fingers
ripe berry past my lips
August fruit, ripe summer fruit
kept from spoiling,
enticing me again
August 10, 2008
Copyright by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage.
(Raymond A. Foss)
More Poetry from Raymond A. Foss:
- Hearing their whispers (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
- Hearing the martyrs, the heroes (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
- Awkward Seasons (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
- Sow Peace (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
- Live Peaceably (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
- Listening to their grief (Raymond A. Foss Poem)