just berry picking
on a common sunny day
in a sweet moment
i remember picking local wild berries with you
i don’t really see you or remember you
visually, only the atmosphere
of our two sets of hands
in the bright summer sun
reaching for each deep, almost black, fruit
while avoiding the numerous thorns
as challenge for the bursting of juice in the thicket
along the dirt road, so much work
for a small handful
of the sun warmed berries, shared
between our freshly stained palms
in a precious moment of heightened awareness,
or was it sunstroke,
an understanding and acceptance
of the possibility in this simple joy
