Blackberry

The fruit, the bramble, the musical, ermm, no, not that last one.

all around the Great Orme of Llandudno grow blackberry bushes
conspicuously, clinging close to the low sea wall,
their purple stems sprawl and spread,
promising the painful puncture, prick of thorn,
sharply suggest some simple caution
and council with unconcealed contempt
against even careful consumption of it's core,
yet offers, clustered amidst flowers now faded, finished, forgotten, gone;
and shrivelled sepals, seed-heads and leaves
spotted, blister blotched with signs of sure decay and yellowed death,
red, as yet unripened, or black bursting
between the barbs, beneath the buzz of bees and lazy flies,
shining in the agreeable autumnal afternoon sun, stretched and indolent,
the sour, seed filled sugary delight that is simply,
the blackberry.