I see, by the bees' attention only
(great dark bumbles, heavy-lifters
of themselves that somehow manage the poise
to dance about these dainty tips)
raspberry flowers are slowly emerging
from their small clusters of down-turned buds,
looking groundward, seeking to conceal
their delicate slightness under the leaves
which curl out over them offering shelter,
that even inverted calyxes and sepal-stars
pass unnoticed among tapering green,
as the fruits, too, will hide slyly,
until a hand reach a feel under,
renewing that annual knowledge, along
the spiny stems and leaf-undersides,
among that rough where the red sweet shies
till fingers tickle it tactile out
tumble it ripe into cupping palm.
...................
Again, it is just arranged with four stresses a line.
YOU ARE READING
The Singing Season
PoetryThe Singing Season. That's the spring-time. You'll also like other MajorSeventh poetry collections - and there are so many to choose from.
