Late Cropping Raspberries – A Poem By Carol J Forrester #DVersePoets
Last of the soft fruits,these blooms are redder, fatter,skins splitting sticky on a palm.Drew my tongue along a lifeline,caught what was left beadedbetween the creases of flesh.Half a gasp at the tingling,spring still weaving magicas the trees catch fire. Time trick of seasons blurring,like unexpected heatunder the winter sun.