less than half the arc

for the dVerse prompt “always in season”:

The last of the summer has been scraped from the jar,
the last of the sweet purple-black stains
are dissolved away in the washing-up water,
and the last of the scent of heat and dust and musk
dissipates in the fresh spring air.

And so the memory of blackberry season is gone.
Gone out of sight, and out of mind,
hidden more than half a year away,
behind more than half the arc of an orbit past.

But the days lengthen,
the brambles unfurl their leaves,
and soon the tiny buds will form and swell.
And as the arc-length ahead shortens,
the anticipation of blackberry season begins.

I finished the last jar of blackberry jam a few days ago, so this prompt to write about fruit felt timely. I’ve written about blackberrying and blackberry jam before. I’ve always loved blackberrying, the irresistible plump, sweet fruit, the musky scent of blackberries filling the house during jam making, and the jars lined up in the pantry holding those summer days safely… just another 5 months to blackberry season!