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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:03:23 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 161857
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => At The Harvest Table.
[time] => 2010-08-17 12:40:37
[hometext] => A hot sunny afternoon picking blackberries in the Welsh countryside.
[bodytext] => Warm to the touch in the midday sun, The blackberries are a deep slow ripening In the hedgerow's forest. Here at the field's perimeter only the birds and I Are gathered at this harvest table. My arms are scratched with a thorny endeavour, My hands sticky and sweet with a juiciness That spreads a stain of crimson, like a gathering of blood, Across my palms. Each berry lands with a plop in my container Until, half fall, each cushions the other's landing With a tired and satisfied sigh. The birds are polite and welcoming, Their little beaks dripping the plunder of the season's gift, Their eyes bright with the sun. And we sit, the birds and I, sharing the summer bounty, At one together at this harvest table. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 141 [topic] => 27 [informant] => cashfan1 [notes] => Corrected spelling as requested ~ Moderator_18 Aug 17, 2010 [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => NaturePoetry )
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