The blackberries hang  like swollen breasts at the house

my family spends the day gathering them

among sharp thorns and comments we throw around.

Walking along a stream of new green life

we follow the  cloud’s icey paws,

cramming berries into our bulging bags,

then settling down with purple fingers in the kitchen,

we cast a vote to eat them now.


She makes cobler  in ovens of trouble,

and the plates are produced

she  commands:  Eat this!

We obey.


9 July 2005

Natural Laws

Dave Barber

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