Wild Raspberries in Harrogate

 

There are tales I could tell

about picking blackberries 

in the countryside, or even in town,

how they were sour or rotten

when I bit into one or stained

my finger and thumb. I could say

how I was worried that they’d be

poisoned with exhaust from 

passing traffic, how the thorns

pricked me. I could mention

picking bilberries at Sutton Bank

which you can’t really eat raw

but use to make desserts, or wine

as we did with the rosehips

from Wensleydale. Our nails

itched for days from the seeds.

A child asked what we were doing

and her mother said ‘stealing’.

I could say these things 

and in spite of myself I have done.

A year ago in a field between

the Valley Gardens and Harlow Carr

I came across wild raspberries

glowing like lights on a Christmas tree.

I may have been infected 

the day before I tested positive

but hadn’t lost my sense of taste,

for they refreshed me more than 

the horrid orange drink I had

with the sandwich I struggled to finish.

They lifted my mood more than

the views across to Nidderdale

from the footpath near Rotary Wood.