Raspberry Rain

The rain pelted the leaves as we picked pink raspberries at a nursery out on the                     
Skagit flats
only a few minutes west sits the Salish Sea salt and blue and islands of San Juan
to the northeast you’ll run up against a volcano of ice and jutting peaks and to the west rainforest and hills river green
it was warm as I plucked and popped a few raspberries in my mouth
I couldn’t help but think of miniature roses peeling off the white bulb
I’ve always thought roses smelled like raspberries, they are in fact kin
these pink translucent beauties definitely look the part
with a nice light flavor and color, these were my first
the bushes and my clothes heavy with water drupelets droplets
we keep picking – daydreaming about jam and compote and berries atop mountains of oatmeal and crisps and cobblers and summitting peaks and dessert at the top
standing eye height, I nuzzle into the bushes and breathe in earth and breathe out
my prayer for bees – already thinking about next year’s raspberry rain

This poem was originally published as a postcard and copies distributed at a local Redmond business (Hoffman's Fine Cakes and Pastries) as part of Read Local Eat Local, a poetry project by the City of Redmond's Poet Laureate, Ching-In Chen. (Sep. 2024)