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Blueberries

Armand Garnet Ruffo
From:   At Geronimo's Grave.


The end of summer
and we pick blue
berries, pluck them
with delicate precision
              open ourselves to the goodness
              of the world
              that is theirs
drop the offering
onto our ready tongues
and drift into heavy clouds
bringing us to remember

Friends who move
marry
make pies and jam
they ate as children for their own children,
holding to the sweetness
they once loved.

And divorced
that's them too
when fingers cramp, stop,
mouths close in denial,
and the heart's want
is replaced by the sickly feeling
of having too much
too little.

But here kneeling in the ruins
of stumps as far as the eye can see,
we take these berries,
blue as the new life they are,
              in gratitude
              humility,
              yet lustful for the taking.
The dusty logging road at our backs,
we stand, stretch to leave
at day's end
and laugh in our full desire
all the way home.


Armand Garnet Ruffo's works copyright © to the author.


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