the harrow

Raspberry Trees

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© 2004 Serena M. Agusto-Cox
All rights reserved.

 

Cranberry sap, collects
Inflamed.
the clouds charred edges
flake and float.
Heap of ash
on the bottom of my fireplace.

It's time to sweep.
my hands are stiff,
colder than I thought

The woodpile is gone.

I step outside.
forest vanished
into my house.

Chop the corner out.
I won't sleep here
anymore.

I shut out the cold.
the chill creeps,
the fireplace rages.
shadows of branches
ripe berries fall
and collect.

Shake berries in autumn.
meadow dry,
fire.

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