black-berrying

Majestic, over-arching boughs
Of deepest purple, tempting
Treasures, glistening wickedly
To eager, warm mouths –

And swooping, flashing from the skies:
Shining birds who boldly hold
The sweetest, glossy berries
In their sharp, hot eyes –

Go children, pulled from soft, safe lawn
To the cackling tendrils’ snare,
By promised fruit: wet, sharp, sweet…
Lips stained, play-clothes torn –

What will Mother say? Can she know?
Guilty pleasures: childhood’s bite –
White lace cuffs stained bluish-red,
Hair teased from its bow.

SJL: 10th September, 2005