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R is for Raspberry
Raspberry
Little hut of circles,
a nest
for the tongue
a thimble of juice
delicate
as a summer morning.
Ripe on the brier,
a red promise
Summer igloo
in the hot iron sun.
Pebble of seed
gathered under flesh,
soft thatch of roof
Elusive melody
in the thorn bush,
a chorus repeated
year after year,
a sotto voce note
that hangs
momentarily
in August's mouth.
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