blackberries

With the taste of store-bought blackberries, unexpectedly, the Big Rock. Before the wooden walkway, when we leaned the heels of our hands against one granite wall and sidestepped bare toes across another. When the brambles made thin marks on our dry, tanned legs, we picked blackberries in the late-summer sun. And ate them. And swam. Lakewater washing our juice-stained hands.