The dVerse quadrille is a 44-word poem, excluding any title, using some form of the prompting word: Bramble. Click here for link to the party at the pub.
Small troops of proud pickers pounce
and probe with plastic cups and buckets seeking
drupelets of prey, searching brambles
to score secret sweet’n sour ingredients
plucked from aggressive blackberry tangles.
Juice-stained fingers hunt hearts of cobblers,
tarts, buckles, crisps, and jams.
Perchance, some wine?
Look both ways even when picking berries.
Mind the gaps,
we share all of this with more natural consumers.
Our Literary Journey 
Wonderful aliterations, Bill.
Now I’m craving a blackberry something!
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Thank you, Dale.
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🙂
Always welcome.
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well done sir….my Brother and Sister in law lived for many years in Anchorage, Alaska. Alaskans are some HARD CORE berry pickers, And they follow the season as the different species become ripe. Some, like Salmon berries, or Cloud berries, don’t ship well. so you can ONLY get them locally. One Long Island, where I grew up, one of the things all the old bay rats had was a secret spot where the could pick Beach Plums, which are AMAZING.
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Thanks, Turk. Good to know.
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Love this especially; “Juice-stained fingers hunt hearts of cobblers.” 🍇💝
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I’m pleased you liked it. Thanks for the comment.
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You took me there. I loved picking berries, sharp and brambly as they are. And yes, we always need to watch our step! Hearts of cobbler was a great metaphor!
Dwight
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Thanks. Glad you liked it.
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I remember that guy😊 Are those PNW blackberries?
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I don’t know. 😃
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A beautiful piece!
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Thanks.
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Thanks
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Lovely alliteration – ‘proud pickers pounce/ and probe with plastic cups’ – and the ‘s’ in ‘tarts, buckles, crisps, and jams’ – there’s a lot to like in these 44 words.
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Thank you.
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This takes me back to picking blackberries with my mom and once there was a bear picking them too😊
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