Up the road or down, sometimes further afield, often not for long, we're out most days.
Saturday, 23 August 2008
Up the road, afternoon, picking blackberries.
A brown butterfly sways sleepily on a ripe cluster, proboscis plunged into a soft berry, sucking dark juice. Alive for a season, lost in blissful drunkenness, I leave it in peace.
Your words have so much sensual impact! The image really comes alive.
We have lots of blissful drunkenness here, too -- of the butterfly and the human sort. This morning we climbed a steep hill and I was scratched by brambles absolutely covered with clusters of pinkish berries. None ripe as of yet.
2 comments:
oh that's wonderful...
Your words have so much sensual impact! The image really comes alive.
We have lots of blissful drunkenness here, too -- of the butterfly and the human sort. This morning we climbed a steep hill and I was scratched by brambles absolutely covered with clusters of pinkish berries. None ripe as of yet.
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