Into deep summer~~ hands sticky with wild raspberry juice and lanced with long scratches from green bristled plants protecting young red mounded berries. Secret fortressed world where daddy-long-legged spiders scuttle after dining on scarlet globes and chickadees stain feathers blood-red as oozing berries turn to wine in cicada-languishing August paradise.
Chipmunks scatter and squirrels endlessly scold, disturbed, annoyed, as raspberry after raspberry pops into open mouth, past a gate of pearly teeth, here’s one, no, two, for the bucket. Oh so hot and yet cool if you drop to your scratched knees down in the thicket and pause amidst your raspberry hut to smell sun-baked sweet berry pie and jam and jelly and to let the cool shade shelter your wild desires until suddenly, so suddenly, you’re not longing for ice cream or whipped cream or any other sweetness because it’s all satiated, eternally satiated, and you lay silent against the cool earth, a mountain for ants to explore. A raspberry plops unbidden from its archipelago high above and you’ll never ever long for anything again, you know it~~
~~except maybe for those ants to quit climbing unto the pinnacle of their own endless desires~~ and you roll over and rise above the chest-high berried paradise and pick another forbidden fruit and another and yet another, singing God’s praises with every sticky sweet bite.