Unruly Delight

To my great surprise,

my huge and

unruly delight,

tasting the blackberry

brought almost

unimaginable joy that

spilled from my soul

like roe from a salmon.

These orange orbs

of joy

danced with

impressive enthusiasm

into the air,

encapsulating

what was tucked

beneath the swell of fruit

just a moment earlier:

A pale

and seemingly

insignificant

nub.

It blinks,

if such a thing can blink,

at the infinite green hum

of daylight.

It tenses,

if such a thing can tense,

at the non-negotiable intimacy

with the wind.

And at night,

it dreams,

if such things can dream,

under the slow silver drizzle

of moonlight.

I’d like to think

that my plucking of the

blackberry

gave this little bud

great surprise,

unruly delight,

and maybe even

unimaginable joy.