Day 26 – Blackberry Leaves

Blackberry Leaf

August

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.

Mary Oliver

Today’s camera walk turned up these beautiful gold and russet blackberry leaves. I am beginning to despair of finding enough autumn poems to get me through the 100 days without boring myself to tears. So, I made an executive decision that the poems do not have to be about autumn. And after all don’t golden blackberry leaves in October evoke the joy of picking and eating ripe blackberries in August?

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