Blueberry Lake

Blueberry Lake

There is a place
where blueberries
float on top of the water
bobbing with every ripple
you want to scoop them
into your palms
hold them like pearls
before placing them
in the center of your tongue
a perfect dip
before your teeth break
through the thin skin.

Your mouth wants to chase them
around the contorted bend
sucking in the berries
but expelling the sea green brine
stringing them along your throat
a necklace
of no worth to man
but prized among the stars
berry purple jewels
polished to shine
in folded moonlight

The whisper and beckon
among the reeds
hiding their purple flesh
giving only a snatch
to tease
they are sirens
calling to stained fingers
and wet mouths
those who taste
are bound by a season
released when
knees crinkle
and the silver trees
dip their branches
in winters kiss.


About delightfulness

One sweet, quirky, delightful individual I am.
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