The Bardo of the Heart by maria walton

(The Cocoon)

In the still light

summer wanes,

sounds have grown softer

blowing by on cooler breezes

that seem to have spent

more time lost at sea

than their predecessors—

blowing in saltier and announcing

the beginning of the closing acts—

the denoument of the high season.

Ripe blackberries are falling off

the vines under the weight

of their own lusciousness into

the waiting hands of the earth

pulling them down with invisible fingers

trying to taste her own sweet,

nectar-filled creation.

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