LATER, BLUEBERRY PIE
Pillowed moss chin rest
Canned coffee,
Newly blue berried,
Spilt in haste.
Cool wetness felt
Before taste,
Before swallow,
Before anticipation.
Sounds around come
To mind, pooled
Too slow to rush
Meandering’s gurgled pace..
A spring is always sought,
Never found by chance unless
Rest before Ma’s Blueberry
Pie is your manifestation.
– Mark R. Ellsworth