Remainers.
I saw today a final fat berry drop floor-ward.
Surplus juice oozing its fastness had loosened
and snap went its hold.
Tumbling to earth heavy with fructose to mud
one swollen head rolled
Glistening the ferment of sun-sweetened nectar
bled as last globe unhooked.
The bush once loaded with bee-buzz now naked
twiggy-thin barbs litter its look.
Produce collected in baskets of globuling gems
takes trips of earlier mission.
Open to mould the few remainers of lip-licking
gifts soon drop to extinction.
As a left-over exception to former success and
though split is one berry alone
Seasonal pleasures come to an end so country
folk value each thorny hedgerow.
Praise for any late summer thirst-quenchers
all weary field-workers call best Girt-Berries.