Burgundy

Upon the higher hills that look away
out to the western up across the bay
I picked some burgundy partridgeberries
on one fine, sunny,breezy autumn day

So late down in the fall it was that now
the berries were far gone beyond the red
that is their color earlier in the season
and so they looked black in their mossy bed

These are the ones, this is the time to pick
the berries for one's lot of winter's jam
For now they are most ripe and almost sweet
though still with tartness that can pucker lips

Sometime not far away when snowflakes fly
a frosty winter's morning as I sip
My morning brew of pot-steeped, strong, black tea
into this burgundy my toast I dip

And I remember sunshine of the day
when I picked these in on the higher hills
It seems like as I eat my bread and jam
with sunshine from that autumn day I'm filled


Wayne Taylor Bonavista, NL