Vox Populi
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James Crews: Berrypicking On the Dexter Trail
Years ago, when neighbors clear-cut
a swath of trees on the ancient trail
that empties out near our house,
I never imagined I’d someday breathe
even the faintest thank you. But now
I see how the bulldozers that disfigured
this land, and removed the mossy,
old-growth maples, also made room
for black raspberry bushes to fill out
and fruit, ripeness reaching for my hands.
I see now how the roots of each one
waited, latent in the shaded soil
of the understory for their own stories
to begin, for me to come along one day
and fill the open bowl of my hands
with berries that stain my skin and lips—
to grieve the green tunnel these woods
once made, and still feast on what’s given.
Copyright 2023 James Crews
James Crews is the author of the essay collection, Kindness Will Save the World, and editor of the forthcoming The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace & Renewal. A widely published poet, James lives with his husband in the woods of Southern Vermont.
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Such a sweet poem, juxtaposing loss with something positive that comes unexpectedly as a result. Would that something of the sort happen to the Palestinians and all those suffering
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Lovely poem. Here in southeast PA, black raspberry season is over and wineberries are just past their prime, with blackberries on the way. Picking and nibbling them along the road side and wood edge is a delight.
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In western PA, blackberries and raspberries are in season and can be see on the edges of the woods. It’s a delight to pick them, but most are eaten before they get home!
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Blessings. Bounty. Even after loss.
Have you ever noticed how many poets write about blackberries? There are a lot…
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“I see now how the roots of each one
waited, latent in the shaded soil
of the understory for their own stories
to begin, for me to come along one day”
I love those lines!
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I love those lines too. And so many of James’s poems as well.
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Love the open bowl of my hands. I wish I could taste those berries
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lovely and sweet. A gift from you and the earth. My favorite line: ripeness reaching for my hands.
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