Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started

Picking brambles, by Britta Benson

I went for a walk an picked brambles. My local area is full of blackberry bushes and right now is the perfect time to pick this precious fruit, the most mysterious of all the summer fruit. Takes the longest to ripen and is so full of goodness – while I was picking the brambles, I thought, hey, there’s a poem in that! And there was…

Picking brambles

My hand weaves past the leaves, past

fruit still spring clean green with knobbly ears,

past a blushing pair of heads leaning

cheek to cheek in coy excitement.

Then, the prize.

I hold the whole of summer gently pinched

between the soft tips of my expert fingers.

I pluck plump, silly days and sultry nights.

Sun, moon and stars, I pick the past, the future.

Just a berry.

Fragile and sparkling in the deepest black.

A world.

The theory of everything.

Advertisement

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: