Brambles ensnared the last weeds of Autumn,
the tattered clothes of the lost year.
Brambles wove Winter with burr and with blackthorn,
threading through stems of wild parsley and nettles,
yellowed, crushed, misshapen, forlorn.
Those brambles wearing white blossom and bright butterflies
ensnared me on hot Summer days,
weaving black magic through my memories;
tearing my thoughts like my skin with its barbs;
with its savage promise of sweet blackberries … .