OH! You – in a cluster on the bush. You sweet, tart little thing, you.
You look so unassuming – blend into the greenery, even. But you POP on my tongue!
Some of you are sweeter than others, but you’re all Magic.
Without the rain, and maybe the overcastness – would you exist? would you persist?
But there you are – and I, with my big hands and opposable thumbs, can hold five of you in my palm and still pluck more off the stems and into my hand. Gently – to not rip your delicate skin. Dip you into water and you lose your ashy covering – turning dark, rich blue. Almost purple – you underripe ones are purplish.
I adore you! Don’t ever leave me to face the world without your delicious addition.