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  Home > Nature > Poetry > Not Enough Blueberries
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Recent poems by
Mary E Lacey, Desertrat


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Never meant to Be

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Popular: Books, Stories, Articles, Poetry

Recent poems by
Mary E Lacey, Desertrat


Mr. Muffin

Never meant to Be

To Althea, from Prison

Feline Computer Tecn

Hard Decision

Tulips in the Desert???

A Paperless Office

July 4th Harvest Moon

         more...
Not Enough Blueberries
By Mary E Lacey, Desertrat   

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Which is best? The beauty of yesterday, or convenience of today.

                                                               

A glorious autumn afternoon, on that
fateful day, the dying leaves of beauty
were falling to the ground. As we
walked along the forest’s floor, it was brimming
with colorful leaves.  And as we took every step,
 a crackling crunch beneath our feet.
Sis and I were walking around the sunlit
woods, picking blueberries so Mom could bake a pie.  
We walked passed the babbling
brook, and listened to the singing birds in the sky.
As we walked along, our baskets
filling up, I looked at the bluish purple
 berries and thought I’d eat just one.
As I took a bite, delicious nectar filled
my thirsty mouth, a delectable treat, sweet but
sour too. I handed one to Sis, and said,
“Here, this is for you” Being older than me
she scolded with a little “a hem” sound.
We’ll never get enough of these if you
keep wolfing them down!
We walked some more, I felt a little
mad, for her putting me in my place.
But when I looked up at her, blue
was all over her face!
We walked and picked berries, and
ate almost every one, than when we
got home we realized what we had done.
Mom looked at our empty baskets, and
asked us where we’d been. She snapped
and looked at us, “Speak, I want to know!
We lied and said the vines were empty,
no berries to be found. She folded her arms
and looked at us in her special way, and said,
“stick out your tongues”.
Of course the blue ruined our plans, she
said in anger “no pie tonight, go wash your hands”

But isn’t it grand, kids today don’t have to worry about such things.  No pesky leaves around falling in their hair, no walking in some
stupid woods, with blueberries staining their hands. No lousy singing
birds, to drown out the music with the ipods they have.   And Mom doesn’t worry about messy blueberries anymore, just rev up the car and take a quick run to the grocery store.
If you could have a fresh baked blueberry pie, which one would it be?  Fresh berries that stained your tongue, or one baked by Sarah Lee?
 
                                                           Mary E. Lacey
                                                                2008 

 


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Recent Poetry by this author.     All Poetry by this author
Mr. Muffin

Never meant to Be

To Althea, from Prison

Feline Computer Tecn

Hard Decision

Tulips in the Desert???

A Paperless Office

July 4th Harvest Moon



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