blueberries

your fingers
are full of blue
berries. you've
picked your fill
today. but only enough
for one this time.
your back hurts
from bending over
and you are tired
in the sun.
and you take them
home, wash them
under the cold
water of your
kitchen sink, you
separate the fat
and plump ones
from the bad,
then you pour
them into a white
bowl, with milk,
with a spoon of sugar
sprinkled about.
and you eat and taste
the goodness,
the sweetness of
your day, but with
your fingers, your
heart, just barely,
but still blue.