Strawberry harvest

Barefoot gardening
Bright red and ripe
Warm flesh lays
Prickling with summer excitement
And lazy with sweet peace
In a tangle of delicate stems
Soft and thin green nests
Home for strawberries
With sugary perfume
Greeting my hands when
The fruit is tugged away
From the dirt mixing
In between my toes and soles
Leaving rounded footprints
Trailed dancing and
Careful not to step
On broken glints of glass
Or whole growing plants
Breaking the surface of
The earth which I stand