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

Poem 84: Blackberries