Have you noticed along East State
and the Library frost has come,
taking with it the leaves but not
the hundreds of berries revealed now,
unprotected to the elements, neither
devoured nor visited by the birds?
The hungriest feathered aviators, how did they
learn the lesson not to be tempted
by the round brown faces hanging around
and so available? Is their odor pungent,
their taste bitter? Their juice deadly?
They look like berries to me, or is it an illusion?
I learn my lessons painfully.