Blackberry Buzzing

Blackberry Buzzing
I love the feel against my hip or hand
or handbag. Not just in September, but always,
the buzz like a burr against my body,
slightly prickly, insistent as I stand alone
in a field or on a city street surrounded
by others being buzzed too, summoned,
prodded, wondering Who? Who? and then lifting
the slick, compact, inky-black BlackBerry
to my lips and ear, open to the words that come
tapped or spoken, bidden or unbidden,
satellite-bouncing across hills, valleys, rivers,
leaping over oceans, big sky, skyscrapers,
avenues, alleyways, words I take within me,
sweet-familiar or darkly deep, luscious in any season.