October’s raspberries are plump and full of juice.
They hide in clusters under rows of leaves.
Chewed into lace legacies by August beetles.
Loosen just one berry and six fall in your hand.
Staining your fingers red and sweet.
Tempting you to pop one on your tongue.
Savor the nectar as you slowly suck the inside out.
Seeds and all.
Sustain the moment.
The harvest looks limitless.
But, the first frost will abruptly ambush you.
Pluck away this pulpy pleasure.
Coerce it into distant dreams.
Lynn Benjamin
October 13, 2006