Barrel shaped succulent black drops, 
druplets in fact, they are an aggregate fruit - 
clustered sweet sections, smooth against my tongue
until they burst. 

Her fingers stained, she reaches for each - likes best
the slightly red and tart ones.
“I know what tart means!” she explains.
A berry squishes under my right big toe
in my sandal. A mockingbird lands 
just above us.  I hold down branches while she plucks.
Enough? “Not yet, a little more!”

Little green stems
stay attached. We finally decide our turquoise bowl is 
full enough. We inspect our soles 
stained deep purple-red, wiping berry bits onto the mat.

NaPoWriMo Day Seventeen prompt response, lived on day eighteen and published on day nineteen.