Black-Raspberry Patch

Through late autumn days I saw

These bushes stand on long blue single legs

Like herons.

Against the first snowfall

They were a bleak flock

Afraid to breast the snowy bees

That swarmed aslant disastrous thrusts of wind.

Today I observe them standing there,

Feathered to leafy greenness now,

Waiting to drop their ripened earth-fed dreams

Into the warm brown nest of summer. . . .

Soon they'll try again

To tug loose their rooted feet

And wheel away through autumn skies.