the crackling of my rusted bike chain stops as i park at the creek

sunlight slipping through tree branches and leaves

pouring down into the sparkling water

inviting me with its chatter

untied tennis shoes and mismatched socks fall to the ground

joining the pebbles and dried leaves and a few empty soda bottles

as i roll up my jeans

and join the sunlight in the brook

bare feet in the mud

i trudge through the water

stopping only at the island

where the salamanders reside

bare feet meet soft grass

i step around the sapling to find the blackberry bramble

this is what i came for

cautiously, delicately, i take some for my own

the deep, plump berries sitting in my palm like fat chunks of obsidian

fuschia juice staining my fingertips

as the last berry is stolen

i make my escape

only, it’s far too brisk

my hand is nicked by the bramble

blood dripping down my fingertips

bare feet sodden with fragmenting mud and dots of red

nearly like ladybugs til the dots spilled over into the grass

and in that moment, it almost seemed like you were there with me