bee & bramble

late spring comes, then summer.

the berry bramble hovers,

its bee cover buzzing.

heat and wings drown

the sound of buckets

bumping into legs

as we march across the field.

fingers stretch from the hand

that extends from the arm, 

drawing way way up 

from tip toes, 

leaning, 

teeth biting the lip, eyes 

squinting in the hot day shine,

to touch the black berry,

barely dangling heavily

from the vine, there 

behind the veil 

of buzz and thorn

just out of reach.

that big, plump, perfect one

plucked with great tenderness

and memory.

the first berry of the season,

warm and promising.

it's flower caressed by bees.

they traded need for need,

pollen and nectar 

for hive and honey. 

for berry, pollination: 

a business deal

the way nature saw fit

way back when

bees were just buzzing,

and berries just brambling.

back then.