Oaks and Orchids

I bought a carton of raspberries
at the market. Every time
I drop one in my mouth
I can’t resist rolling it around
my tongue. The fuzziness –
sparse, exquisite roughness, your stubbled
cheek against mine while you
hug my worries away.
The way they crunch when chewed.
Reminder – they’ve seen days of
sun and won’t give up so easy.
There’s a stain on my favorite
old sweatshirt to prove it.

West Virginia’s starting to smell
of honeysuckle. Delicious.
I roll down all the windows,
stick my head out like the coonhound
in that battered pickup. Inhale until
lightheaded I’m delirious with smiles.

(MAY)

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