sweetness of a day

Was only a few weeks ago
that green branches drooped low, heavy
 with white, pink and deep dark
berries that keep the dove bellies dragging ground
that added a lilt to their mournful sounds at dawn
Already, gone  to seed and gone to need and
whimsical greed

I tasted mulberries  in the early summer rain
and again, and again I stained fingers and lips
coated my eager tongue with sweetness
and as I smeared the soft fruits while taking them
there was no loss
and in closed-eyed memory I'd see
the hills and narrow winding lanes
of the little town where I grew, watching
the Manhattan skyline from my window
and how we gathered beneath the great shaded awning
of mulberry trees on Railroad Avenue near the Pennsy overpass
and filled the air with laughter and sounds of delight

We exercised the right if all hungry creatures,
we feasted on the mulberries, celebrated
with joyful slurps and sounds,  a delightful simplicity--
the sweetness of a day.