fruit of the month

ah the beautiful plump of blueberries
the round soft lush of bunched fruit
burst of taste on the tongue

drought dulled this year's sweet

some places are drowning in rain and we still
press pedal down down, drive our metal rusting bodies
through the brown haze once called air

thirty-five years ago in school we
heard tut tut tongues clicking disapproval, fertile
farmland disappearing we
moved away from dirt under our nails and
hoeing till our backs ached, we
followed the pull of purchase

now the promise of leisure lies
around our bellies and clenches our hearts
and we treat ills in sterile rooms kept pure with poison

but on this sunny day my
breath tastes water raising cool from the green, my
fingers cherish the labour of these roots, my
ears thank the melodious air, my
oh my I remember what is precious