There were never strawberries
 like the ones we had
 that sultry afternoon
 sitting on the step
 of the open french window
 facing each other
 your knees held in mine
 the blue plates in our laps
 the strawberries glistening
 in the hot sunlight
 we dipped them in sugar
 looking at each other
 not hurrying the feast
 for one to come
 the empty plates
 laid on the stone together
 with the two forks crossed
 and I bent towards you
 sweet in that air

 in my arms
 abandoned like a child
 from your eager mouth
 the taste of strawberries
 in my memory
 lean back again
 let me love you

 let the sun beat
 on our forgetfulness
 one hour of all
 the heat intense
 and summer lightning
 on the Kilpatrick hills

 let the storm wash the plates

Sumer is icumen in, which means (in England, at least) Wimbledon, Ascot and the Ashes. Oh, and strawberries in cream - hence today’s choice of poem.

Truth to tell, though, the strawberries of the title are rather incidental to the poem, which is mostly about love, and memory, and experience. No, wait, I take that back: the strawberries may be incidental, but that’s entirely the point - the poem is about incidents, about the million and one little things that make life worth living. The events described may be just one story out of many, but they’re no less real and no less important for that.

— Thomas

[Minstrel Links]

The magic of the ordinary is a theme which runs through much of Edwin Morgan’s work; see, for instance, his justly celebrated “The Unspoken”, Minstrels Poem #147. See also Seamus Heaney’s “Song”, Minstrels Poem #61.

Morgan’s poetry also has a strong undercurrent of humour; see Minstrels
Poem #215, “The Loch Ness Monster’s Song”, and Minstrels Poem #304, “The Subway Piranhas”. I find his playfulness a welcome relief in an age where poets often take themselves all too seriously.

Finally, while we’re on the subject of berries, see William Carlos Williams’ equally evocative slice-of-life, “This Is Just To Say”, Minstrels Poem #274.