I roll the pale green grape between thumb and forefinger
and feel the slight - give - of flesh,
yielding but resisting,
at the first point of ripeness.
I concentrate as I rub
and play
with its perfect imperfect shape.
As I bring it towards my lips
light reflects causing
the sea-washed bottle green skin to fade
to almost translucency seeming to show
the veined pulsing goodness beneath.
Teeth on skin to graze and -
Bite!
Juice bursts forth to spill on tongue.
A single vine-berry's delight.
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