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At The Harvest Table.
Contributed by
cashfan1
on
Tuesday, 17th August 2010 @ 12:40:37 PM in AEST
Topic:
NaturePoetry
|
Warm to the touch in the midday sun,
The blackberries are a deep slow ripening
In the hedgerow's forest.
Here at the field's perimeter only the birds and I
Are gathered at this harvest table.
My arms are scratched with a thorny endeavour,
My hands sticky and sweet with a juiciness
That spreads a stain of crimson, like a gathering of blood,
Across my palms.
Each berry lands with a plop in my container
Until, half fall, each cushions the other's landing
With a tired and satisfied sigh.
The birds are polite and welcoming,
Their little beaks dripping the plunder of the season's gift,
Their eyes bright with the sun.
And we sit, the birds and I, sharing the summer bounty,
At one together at this harvest table.
Copyright ©
cashfan1
... [
2010-08-17 12:40:37] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: At The Harvest Table.
(User Rating: 1 ) by mehuel on
Wednesday, 18th August 2010 @ 01:45:48 AM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
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good peice of work....
"at fields perimeter only birds and i"
"beaks dipping the plunderof seasons gift"..
Beautifully contemplated... |
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