Cloudberries are rare these days.
You can search all day
among the marshes. Meanwhile
mosquitoes feed on you.
When you bring them in a pail
though you have picked for hours
fingers torn, face swollen, they will
subside slowly to fewer than
you would ever have believed.
Dreamberries dissolving between the teeth
with a faint golden taste of the sky.
(Started many years ago in Finland. Completed only recently!)
2 comments:
What a beautiful poem. I'm happy you were able to finish it.
Thank-you Amy. Glad you like it!
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