Blackberries on the bush. Image by Marevo via Pixabay

sun pierced

by Carl Jensen

 
The element of fear picking blackberries
(you really do get snagged by vines)
is balanced against an everyday unease
that the self, ever in motion
is coming a bit loose on its hinges.

One berry leads to the next
each one another drop in your bucket.
This goes on, knowing that a dance is coming
steam filling the kitchen, earth and cinnamon
jar lids pinging as they seal.

“Olé!”

and again, “Olé!”

Blackberries

by John Fossett

 
When I join ‘The Boys’
For their last whiff & sniff,
Before we say our,
‘Now-I-lay-me’s’,
I can hear
Tendrils stretching,
Across new territory
Near the back fence.
From the corner of my eye,
I catch them creeping
Yet, turn to their stillness.
I thin & trim them,
Not to taunt, tame or tune,
But to slow the onslaught.
And just when I’ve pruned enough
Blossoms appear,
Pollinators pause,
And tiny green orbs
Become small dark orbs,
Beckoning.
By late summer,
I’m braving puppy-teeth-prickles
Every afternoon.
Reaching, stretching, balanced on one foot,
Applying a hybrid of Tai Chi,
Yoga, & Buns-of-Steel moves
I fill the pail,
Spilling very little blood.
So, I grab another pail and
Pick until my purple fingers say, enough.
The dark nuggets
Dribble from my pail
To ramble over a cookie sheet.
A gentle shake levels the mass,
Before a deep sleep
In the freezer.
As I grind through
The cold, dark & wet
Days of winter,
I will ration the taste of August
Into my morning mush.
If I’m lucky, my purple smile
Will last until the blossoms return.

Bio for Carl Jensen

As a poet I try to capture the unbelievably true,
in love with opening the box each day not knowing
what will be there.

My heart is my family, Kay and our sons
Blake and Luke.

Poetry, like a parent, nurtures
but also protects what in us
is fragile.

John Fossett is a former tugboat skipper, retired reference librarian, life-long gardener, food preserver, cyclist, hiker and berry picker, with an eclectic skill set. He lives with his partner, kids and their rescued dogs in the Pacific Northwest, where he plays guitar, writes poetry and grows veggies and berries, mostly. You can see more of his writing at http://hangingwiththedog.blogspot.com/

Lucienne Miodonski is a writer, poet, photographer, and active in dog sports. She has a passion for animals and the outdoors and is deeply curious about the natural world. Lucienne seeks to capture the beauty and complexity of nature and draws inspiration from the world around her. Whether crafting poetry, prose, or images, she strives to create work that is engaging and resonates with authenticity and a sense of wonder. She lives on Camano Island, overlooking the Salish Sea and the Olympic Mountains, with her husband and two dogs.

From the moment the Pacific Northwest welcomed Mandi May in 2007, she was in awe of the landscape, which became her muse in her creative work—visual arts and writing. She resides on Bainbridge Island with her husband, children, and the sweet birds that grace her garden.

Table of Contents, Issue #28, Summer 2025