A strange bush stood one meter high
It was a mulberry/blueberry hybrid on
So bushy the stems couldn´t be seen
The fruit thick and starting to mature
some of the berries were freaks
half way between blueberry and mulberry
But the aroma could be smelled
It hit the nose and invited one in
even just the minimum olfactory sense
would send one into a curious frenzy
to lean in and breathe it in through the nose
Then pick one of the berries
But the trail was isolated and few came this far
Above a lake that froze in winter
On a trail with an aspect that soaked the last rays of autumn sun
A desperate lover holding in sight of inevitable farewell
Under stunning birches and aspens whose leaves come damply down
In those last late autumn rains covering the trail lit by a weak sun
The strange bush remains green pumping out those freak berries
emanating that irresistable fragrance
Yet no hand to pick it´s berries
No nose to smell it´s aroma
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