Poem: The Field

winterberries
The Common Snowberry (Death Berry) , Symphoricarpos albus

The Field

Bushes of death-berries near the bus stop begged me to take their picture last week. Branches whip their winter fruit, heavy at the end, as proud as a child holding summer’s vanilla cone. Proud they are plump, ready for the eating, stiff sticks shake nervous in the morning fog—

Remember us, this field of us!

Poking out in clusters, brillo-pad raisined blackberries sleep alongside winter’s bleached fruit.  The field is a young girl’s hair needing a wash and comb.

A week later the corner is stamped mud-brown
a chocolate square cake decorated with a yellow back-hoe.

I missed the pulls and yanks at the knots,
the discovery of a chrome bumper, a smashed
burn barrel and two pickle buckets.

When did this happen?
I never got to say goodbye.

 

~by SPL

Published by

Shannon Laws

Shannon P. Laws lives in the Pacific Northwest. She is a published poet, currently working on a series of short stories. For seven years she produced award-winning community radio programs that promoted the PNW music/art community. Shannon's other interest include operating her voice-over company, Chickadee Productions.

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