Blackberries

I love blackberries, but it is a torture to pick them.  It has always been my job, however.  I wrote this in honor of  the sweet black things protected by needle sharp thorns.


                               The blackberries are ripe---
                                guarded by sharp thorns,
                                but sweet enough to risk
                                the pain.
                                She will use them
                                to make jam---
                                Purple sweetness loaded
                                with seeds to be
                                spread on toast.
                                Wearing scars made from
                                puncture wounds, it was my
                                job  to store the jam until
                                it was the right time
                                to use it to impress
                               some guests or relatives
                               that had come from a
                               long ways off.