The Blackberry

somewhere along that disused
railway line
there might grow a fruiting flower
do you remember how we threw
those blackberries
because they tasted bitter, off... a
little sour, well...

I like to think they seeded,
raised themselves against all the
odds
demanding of sunshine and
nurture and gods,
of raindrops, sweet air, musky
earthy moist clods, and
grass...

I like to think that,
they raised brambled arms
to the blue summer sky
watched as it darkened to
blackberry
and cried...

colour me black god,
so I might leave a mark
leave my ink on the passings of
day
that stray fingers might carry my
lifeblood away
splatter it further and far on the
way, so that somewhere,
there might grow a fruiting flower......tomorrow.

M P 8/9/21