As we approach the bushes
On the outskirts of the woods,
Birds call to us
Playfully taunting us to join them.

Our fingers reach through branches
Carefully avoiding thorns.
Our eyes search
For the perfect raspberry.

The buzzing of bees
Trying to beat us to the juicy fruit,
Is interrupted by his voice.
His older cousin wisdom:

“The darker the red,
The tastier the berry.”

Red juice stains my fingers
As I bring the fruit to my lips.
Sweetness explodes
Inside my mouth.

I look up at him
And offer up my thanks
In a red-stained smile.