A poem by moi.
Currants
Picking red currants in the
Hot June sun;
Plucking these hard
Ruby gloves
Whose clear beauty belie
Their clear tartness
Which I have tasted knowingly
Yet craving
The burst of liquid
In my mouth,
I feel that nothing can mar
This perfect moment.
June 27, 2006
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
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