Out here,
amidst the damson trees,
there is another time beyond time.

I gather fruit,
one basket, then another,
but feel the closing in of otherness.

tree roots descend down,
down into the hidden layers of life.
Like a mist

Out here,
amidst the damson trees,
memories speak and secrets flow.

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Berry mother
Fruit mother

arms laden with generosity,
your blackthorn eyes of damson purple,
blinking brightly, jewel of the harvest,

a hundred good things gathered together,
made sweet by the fullness of sun and time.

Berry mother
Fruit mother

arms outreached in hospitality,
your rowan red lips and rosehip cheeks,
laughing merrily, kiss of delight,

a hundred happy times kept in store,
ready for winter’s darker disarray.

Berry mother
Fruit mother

Giver of jams and jellies, marmalades, pies and tarts, syrups, wines, cordials, spirits, sauces, toppings and dips

Like a child,
each autumn,
I run to you

and greet the bounties of life.

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