Berry Blues
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Some might call it transference
My misplaced compassion for the blueberries
Cuddling in clusters, shading in rich blue hues
Straining plump in a sliver of skin struggling open
To contain them; no one's picking them
Hence my wail, they'll wither and waste
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Not only has Covid made poets of us all, but
Therapists, or in need of them, one for the other
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So I find myself, once again this morning, back
At my neighborhood untended blueberry patch
My eyes, deep, watery wells of tear-water tea
Wicker basket in hand, feeling sorry for the berries
Falling in careless neglect from branches
Too heavily laden to hold them
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I pluck a few here and there until my basket, like
My eyes, tops to bursting, my emotions tipping full
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Therapy would tell me, and truly I know
That I'm transferring feelings to beautiful
Berries instead of to the waste of precious
Human life as the virus continues to coil
Cunning, stealthy, sly like the serpent of Eden
Constricting the breath of an unprepared world
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Still, I feel grateful for small blessings
This overflowing basket of sweet blue bliss
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I'll bring it home to my kitchen, tissue-dry my
Eyes, wash these lovely berries with a gentle hand
I'll eat some and freeze some in little ziploc bags
Anticipating warm muffins on a winter morning
Or a pretty crumb cake atop a pedestal platter
At an Oneg, a Study Group, or with my family
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All those antioxidants! All that Vitamin-C!
All those glorious, healthy, better days ahead
Camille Kettel
July 27, 2020