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Picked Clean

Thick clusters of promise                                    
hang from the branches
of my blueberry bushes.
With black thread
I fasten strips of foil -
flashes of sunlight
meant to scare.
Predacious eyes
shine down -
the ravenous one.
Flashing foil
cannot frighten a bird
nor good intentions
guard a chaste heart.
My bushes are purple heavy,
weighted with fruit.
Hush - I hear hungry wings.

28 Jun 07

Rated 8.5 (8.5) by 2 users.
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Another good poem today!   Excellent.  That last line might have to be purloined...I like it very much, it conveys much in a small space.
 — Isabelle5

Thank you Isabelle5. New to this site. Just feeling my way around. Hope I will get some helpful criticisms.
 — erato

Lines 13+14 are beautifully framed. You might want to think of a replacementg noun for "foil" in L 11 inasmuch as you already used it in L 5.

You know what they say about good intentions . . . .?

I like your poem. A lot.
 — banditfemme

Thanks banditfemme, I'll consider your suggestion.
 — erato

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