Thursday, June 6, 2013

Summer Morning

The mulberries are ripe this time of year. Saturated with the dew, they're so plump and full they hang heavy on their stems. They drop off the trees and scatter across sidewalks. I think if I'd brought Tupperware with me on my morning walk, I could pick enough to bake a mulberry pie. 

Today, the whole sky feels plump enough to drop at any minute; fat raindrops down on my head. It's classic Ohio humidity. 

Summer is ripe as well - big and deep and cherry-purple. The hours are long and delicious - full of  possibility. I remember somewhat distantly that decay is implicit, and this abundance is not boundless. Before I know it, Autumn will have fallen and these mulberry trees will be bare.

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