AMIDA
TRUST

Poetry

Blackberry Week 1985

by Prasada Caroline Brazier

We found a wood, off the road, abandoned
With sounds, fresh as the water of a hill stream on my face
Of leaves and birds and far away.

There, ground-hugging and twisted,
The brambles wrapped the hill.
We trod among them, risking hands for jewelled fruit
Reluctantly given

And, in the wide-eyed half-sleep of a nightmare I wonder
When you are grown, children,
Will you still go and find deserted woods?


P.C.J. Brazier
1985