Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Blueberries

Aroused by sunbeams
in the lap of greens
sapphire jewels wake up plump,
wearing the morning dew
to hear a slow creek's blues.

Lopsided, they ease into my hands
tender, angelic, naïve,
before the bird beaks
chisel through their skin
to tattoo towering verses of blue.

Lining them in a pendant of beads
I'm reluctant to crush them
into the dough, for they'll leave
a trail of purple tears
on their final destination.

I ought to be indifferent
but now, I'm stupidly blue
for there's no way to re-attach
a fruit to its branch
or find illusions once you lose them.


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Prompt: The color blue