Blueberry Field (At The End Of The Day) Poem by Crystal Rosser

Between the rows of blue-
Oh! Symmetrical sweetness!
Tasting a tangy, juicy flesh,
Like purple honey,
Dripping down my fingertips,
Sipping nectar,
As it trickles down my wrists-
Succulent and sinfully delicious,
Plump and popping them into our mouths,
Thirsty, wanting more-
Dragging our bare feet,
Along the hardened row of dirt,
Carefully selecting, meticulously inspecting,
Plucking each berry, one-by-one,
Working for our appetites-
We fill our buckets to the rim,
And carry them to the oaks shade,
Underneath, we sit,
With a saffron-colored blanket,
Tangled around our ankles,
Heads tilted back,
Absorbing a hazy, white sunset-
Fixated on your eyes,
My blood begins to stir and boil,
Thighs melting apart,
Baking a cobbler in my throat,
I feel you burning,
I watch your mouth move,
And my tongue curls,
I watch your hands,
And my body aches,
I wandered all day long,
Through this field,
Tired and sore,
To be still with you,
I held my breath,
To breathe you in,
And I held myself together,
To come apart with you,
At the end of the day-