Summer's first
wild raspberries
red flag my attention, my walk
comes to a halt, a berry patch
six feet deep thirty feet wide
along one side of a country road
The berries are red ships
in a green bramble sea,
red ships with cargoes of juice
have booked me aboard,
I
go from one small red ship
to another as I transform
from a passenger into
a
great storm sweeping
the green sea clear
of red juice ships,
the red stain of many shipwrecks
covers my lips, evidence
of the storm's fury
evidence I've been with
the world in a good way,
eating my way there.