(no subject)

Took a break from work to go out and pick some black raspberries. There was a thunderstorm this morning, but now the sun is shining and the wind is blowing. I've let raspberry canes grow wherever they come up, and there are some right along the side of the house, in the sun. So many are ripe, and warm. Picking them, with the sun on my back and a breeze blowing, and a train calling in the distance, I really think: it's okay to be mortal and to die if there are moments like this--sweet berries, breezes, leaves and ferns, sunlight and shadows, a train whistle.