Monday, June 24, 2013

Poem 84: Blackberries

What is unsaid
What is said
The late-summer sun rises 
And sets in tumultuous glory
What is right
What is wrong
A gentle rain patters 
On a still silver lake
What is light
What is dark
Heaping banks of blackberries 
--Plump, warm sirens--
Ripen and lure the jays to debauchery

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


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