it all comes down to raspberries

It all comes down to raspberries...

I gave her strawberries—but
she couldn’t take care of
them—he says
brushing off
the dust on an old—I
told you so
that was years voiced to
another’s ear
I have a book written by
twisted fate
older than that
of raspberry feed adventure
close at hand—the
late summer sun roasting the leaves
orange to red while we
chase the birds away
hand in hand
strawberries are
gray water memories trickling
down a rain gutter pipe, feeding
an early thaw to winter’s
lazy retreat from the patch—green
leaves anxious to fruit—the
berry hiding in a flower trying
to decide—white or pink
somewhere in—between
all I had to do was
wait
the fruit always came
I didn’t ask for strawberries
the fruit of spring has passed me now
I want raspberries
wild at the edge of the tree line
the birds will eat them all
he says—still
under the illusion that all berries are the same

I will watch the blue jay fill
his belly round and
plump—lazy in contentment as
the cat prowls—hidden somewhere
in the field of escapade—waiting
to move on his catch of the day
I reply

psgates