Blueberry Skins

Another squall
Smashing the mimosa
Against the wall,
Fronds closed in surrender
To the violent
Splendor
Watching another lead sky
Relieve its angry colors
Into a silver
Dispassionate afternoon,
The air rests close
Aqueous and clinging,
Slick, cool grapes
And blueberry skins
Sweet, bitter
Taste...
Another
Sweet, bitter day.