Come with me
into the berryfield,
you and me and the dog,
not a human structure in sight
and no one to be met
under a hot tin sky,
blackberries in our path,
brambles tasting our blood
as we will taste
their sugars of the sun,
each dark bead reflecting our world, if we look close enough—
our dull star, our shadowy countenance, a thousand
globed realities on each thorned stalk.
The dog sniffs out small creatures in the briars
living out their lives moment to moment,
as we would live out ours, staining our fingers,
wounded in our passage, pausing in silent places
as night gathers in the surrounding woods,
our spirits free, our heads more in heaven
than our feet are on the earth,
moment to moment,
walking the berryfield.
