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July Berries

The brim of my hat blocks
late July sunshine
as I climb sagging fences.
The plastic pail tied at my waist
clunks against a post on the way over.
I side-step rabbit holes
and the torn-ear bull
to find a clump of briars
grown round and heavy
with summer sun.
My hands reach past thorns
to fruit birds couldn't peck.
Popping every other
in the bucket, I dream
of dark jam and cobblers
with thick crusts.
I fill my mouth
with warm berries,
breaking taut bodies
against the roof,
letting juice run down my chin
and speckle my shirt.


(C) Copyright 2000, S. Camille Broadway. All rights reserved.
Questions? Comments? Contact me at scbroadway@mindspring. com