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After Blackberry Picking
Into the hedgerow's
clusters of blackberries,
picking their plumpness
with finger and thumb
richly stained by juices,
bare arms grazed
red by bramble thorns.
Out of the oven's
blast of heat, pulling
the pie dish and setting
it on a cooling rack,
the tanned top rises
and falls with blackberry
breath, and now to
slice apart summer,
my mouth fills, my heart
swells, but for this pie
what else has turned
out the way it should -
now that the autumn
light fades early and days
deteriorate fast to dusk?
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