Bearlike, I swagger down my driveway to gorge on an audacious orgy of plump berries. A swarming symphony of businesslike bees surrounds me in side-by-side ecstasy.

 

So many berries just out of reach. In wild love I stretch like a drunk for a hidden bottle, high on a shelf, won't use an extension tool to extract hard to reach clumps surgically in antiseptic love.

 

My lust ignores pain, as sharp biting thorns dig into my flesh. The red etched on my limbs reveals a lava flow of passion oozing out from me.

 

Some years, my tears mirror pounding rain that ruins our affair. Berries shrivel into a hardness only a mother can love, devoid of jubilance. Even the bees are gone.

 

But my lust is never lost. Come sunny days, I display my cross to bear scratches from our intertwined union and endless lovemaking. I lurch for a clump just out of reach. Stretch on my toes just a little bit further. It's a small price to pay for such bottomless love.