Blackberry Winter

This morning was the final one,
The last day that I warm the engine
Then depart the farm and drive
Between the knolls where birds have not

Yet perched on posts because their eyes,
Like mine, are too devout upon
Milky wraiths in the valley
Pockets and the diamonds in the

Grass. After today, the sun
Will mount again in power and
Rout the rime of shorter days
And let the growing season loose.

~ S. K. Orr