The Berry Picker's Triumph

Brush and briar
criss cross,
as if sentinels
guarding a secret treasure.
As I charge past their station,
they cling to me,
almost begging me
as a last ditch effort
to leave their precious wares
be…
Victorious, I ignore
the sting of the tiny barbs
and smile.
Slowly I search,
turning over leaves;
desperate for a glipse of a jewel.
Green….
.......Green…....
................Green…....
AH!
There sits my reward.
Purple, lush, gleaming
in the afternoon sunlight.
Despite the snag and snare
of the small thicket
I stretch and, AH, grasp
the small berry
with my fingers.
I draw back within
my newfound glory.
The sound of the purloined purple
bouncing
on the bottom of my pail
widens my smile.
Greedily,
and with more bravado,
I grab and claw for more
of the royal colored beauties
hidden under the foliage.
Several vicious fights later,
I emerge from the small forest
my bucket full;
my hand and arms scarred from the hunt and battle;
my fingers stained by the blood of my victims…
I am triumphant.
I am the Berry Picker.