Berry picking

I lift a leaf to find a berry round and dark and sweet; I view the facets of that pebbled fruit before I eat it. This ruby globe of summer I taste upon my tongue holds the ripeness of all berries picked when I was young out of jungle-thickets. (How did I penetrate to reach the berries? Were there thorns?) I only know I ate with such a sun-and-shade delight in such a humming place! . . . -- The then and now of berries merge as time turns back its face. . . . I lift a leaf and find a berry as I have done before, observe it -- a delicious jewel -- and stay on, picking more.