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After Blackberry Picking

In the hedgerow's
clusters of blackberries,
bare arms grazed
red by bramble thorns,
fingers and thumb
richly stained, plucking
their plumpness, and then

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,
eat into it - 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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