Raspberries grow

Raspberries grow
When you cut them back
They reach from the ground
Purple fingers with green tips
Thorns so soft they bend like fine hairs
They streeeeetch toward the sun
And bend to the earth
To find new purchase
Set down new roots
Find a new home
Start again

Raspberries grow
At the edges of forests
And the edge of my garden
Where the earth is disturbed
And the sunlight can reach
They run into the grass
Disrupt its tidy border
Refuse to be tamed

Raspberries grow
Mature over winter
Soft green canes give way to steady red brown
Ready for branches
To bear sweet fruit
And bear the weight
Of the robins and squirrels
Come summer

Raspberries grow
Thorns that catch my hands, my arms
They do not lash out
But hold me close
In the bramble's embrace
I learned not to flee
Not to thrash about ensnared
First step closer to move way

Raspberries grow
Berries that aren't berries
Drupelets like droplets of purple summer sun on your tongue
I pick them by the pint
Three weeks of reaching and seeking
And sharing with the ants
Dodging spiderwebs
With the satisfying ache of labored legs
I bottle them for winter
And sunless days
And giving away
This gift of joy, patience, resilience

Raspberries grow
Into bramble bones
Canes spent but sturdy
Ladders for climbing
Scaffolds for building
Upholding the new net of stems and leaves
Not a loss but a lesson

Like raspberries grow
They cut me back
But I reach for new ground
Set down new roots
Find a new home
Start again