Reserves

Yesterday, I picked
a heaping bowl
of juicy blackberries,
boiled, mashed
and canned them.

I gathered a basket
of the ripest tomatoes,
sliced and dried them
for winter.

Today, as I breathe in
the lush greenness
of mid-summer,
I recall and store to memory
a walk in the woods
with my husband,
a morning at the creek
with my grandchildren,
a late night conversation,
laughing with my daughters.

I am trying to preserve
every morsel of sweetness
because it is
the only way I know
to survive the bitter,
unrelenting cruelty
and heartache
in this world.

By Maria Brady-Smith
Photo by Mike Smith