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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Friday, July 1, 2011

The Zen of Strawberries

image source
She goes to the strawberry fields to be free
Head down   back bent   hot sun   sandy soil
Toenails painted in bright sloppy berry juice
The world is bright red candy on green vines
And hers to put in a bucket

Playing hide and seek with the berries
Searching for the reddest  ripest 
Look! Here's one meant for a magazine cover shot!
And here's one so big it looks pregnant!
This one looks like a drunk's nose!
And these are conjoined twins!

She picks more berries than she can ever eat
Or make into pies or jam
But the picking's the thing
She tells herself that when she has a daughter
She will bring her to the strawberry fields
And she does
But her daughter just complains
Of the heat and the bees
Perhaps she is just too young to understand
The beauty of an afternoon
Free

submitted for Thursday Think Tank 55, Freedom, at Poets United