Friday, October 17, 2008

Food Poem Fridays: Mary Oliver's AUGUST

August
By Mary Oliver
When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns, I spend

all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is.  In the dark
creek that runs by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.

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