Small birds flicker thick, make bushes quiver
shimmering silence with bright chirruping.
Blackberries, swollen seconds full of sun.
(Try one, to burst sweet on my tongue, now and
now.) Clear air, still as if jar safe, light-walls
this afternoon's ripe warm - tempting Summer's
tip before the fall. My bag slow heavies
with joined dots, clotting to a mass of dark.
Year's sentences of weather end in these
soft full stops, some small as quick breaths, others
huge as the hush come after promises.
In the kitchen, simmer to a purple-
pooled jewel, sugar shot till sticky rich, so
all your lunchtime rolls can taste of home