Quenchers.
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 berry unhooked.
The bush once loaded with bee-buzz now naked
thin-twiggy clothes 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 later 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 those free summer thirst-quenchers
all weary field-workers call the "Girt-Berries."
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Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: October 25th, 2017 06:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 58
Offline)
Comments12
gosh, that was thirsty work reading this quenching poem. great work, Fay.
One of my favourite fruits and free by the bucket load round here - such a great piece Fay.
Good write Fay.
Thanks FAY ~ although the SE of England is a Concrete Jungle ~ compared with Rural Cornwall ~ there is a woodland area behind where my MUM lives ~ replete with BLACKBERRY bushes. Full of luscious berries in the Summer ! I always pick in gloves ! My MUM has Apple Trees (Bramley) and she miraculously (all mums have the magic touch) turns her apples and my blacks into B & A Suet Puds ~ Jam ~ Pies etc all of which are my favourites ! Thank GOD for FREEZERS ! Love all your Poems & Pictures FAY they are so so evocative ~ Love you too ! BRIAN
Unfortunately, we depend upon the fruit markets in the city to provide us with this delicious berry!
Fay, your picture and description of this blackberry is inviting! I’ll have to check the market and buy some.
My 95 year old mom loves them. She remembers when she was little walking to her grandma ‘s farmhouse. Along the way she’d pick and eat these luscious blackberries!
~Laura ~
I feel quenched already. I love this little treat. A cobbler might be nice too. Now I am thinking about food.
A succulent poem, indeed, Fay. Well done!
A great poem, Fay, brings me back to my childhood and our blackberry bushes in the back of the garden!
It is always an enjoyment to read your poem. I have those berry bushes in my backyard, the berries are all gone by now.
"produce collected in baskets' so nostalgic for me because of my grandmas farm-how I miss picking berries. Always a joy reading your richly worded poems!
and as a country boy i can appreciate it
Good write Fay about one of the treasures of the English countryside.
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