Sunstroke, shade naps, long days, hot nights, fireflies, blackberries, summer.
But I remember so much, the way her hands dismantled bread,
the thing her father said that hurt her, what
she dreamed. There are moments when the body is as numinous
as words, days that are the good flesh continuing.
Such tenderness, those afternoons and evenings,
saying blackberry, blackberry, blackberry.
From Robert Hass's "Meditation at Lagunitas"