The first lilies of June accompany the first blueberries of the month. A friend told me that one of her favorite spring moments was to go out in the morning with her cat and pick the first blueberries. I treasure my short morning walk with the dog and my small handful of first blueberries.
More Than Enough
The first lily of June opens its red mouth.
All over the sand road where we walk
multiflora rose climbs trees cascading
white or pink blossoms, simple, intense
the scene drifting like colored mist.
The arrowhead is spreading its creamy
clumps of flower and the blackberries
are blooming in the thickets. Season of
joy for the bee. The green will never
again be so green, so purely and lushly
new, grass lifting its wheaty seedheads
into the wind. Rich fresh wine
of June, we stagger into you smeared
with pollen, overcome as the turtle
laying her eggs in roadside sand.
--
Marge Piercy's latest book of poetry is Colors Passing Through Us (Knopf, 2003) Poem copyright © 2003 by Marge Piercy
More Than EnoughThe first lily of June opens its red mouth.
All over the sand road where we walk
multiflora rose climbs trees cascading
white or pink blossoms, simple, intense
the scene drifting like colored mist.
The arrowhead is spreading its creamy
clumps of flower and the blackberries
are blooming in the thickets. Season of
joy for the bee. The green will never
again be so green, so purely and lushly
new, grass lifting its wheaty seedheads
into the wind. Rich fresh wine
of June, we stagger into you smeared
with pollen, overcome as the turtle
laying her eggs in roadside sand.
--
Marge Piercy's latest book of poetry is Colors Passing Through Us (Knopf, 2003) Poem copyright © 2003 by Marge Piercy
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