Wild Raspberries On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
The path is narrow,
soft with pine needles, and silent.
Mist rises from the shaded ground.
Clusters of raspberries—
deep red against green thicket—
catch the slant of morning.
Not gathered,
not even noticed,
except by the breeze
and a single bird,
waiting.
Here, the mountain offers sweetness
without asking.
Thank you so much, Kenne, for the lovely poem and photo, which resonate with me because I grow many types of raspberries in my organic, wildlife garden.
Joanna
You have a special way with words and nature.
Very beautifull pic 👍
Nice poem. That is true. Barely noticed.