We picked berries that summer
carefully laying them in the bucket
as grasshoppers jumped to ride our skirts
and a purple butterfly danced just in front of us
Skipping past Mr.Crawford's corn field we saw it
just about ready for harvest a good yield it would be
Mama would make us wear old shirts on backwards
to cover our dresses from the dripping butter
running down our fingers from the choice ones she'd boil up
the others she'd put up in jars for the winter
Excited to show Mama how many berries we picked
we ran into the kitchen and got yelled at for getting stains
on our clothes just as a grasshopper jumped off my skirt
and Mama starting swatting and yelling
as it jumped and jumped just out of her reach
and we wondered about Mama and dancing butterflies
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for this wonderful down home country poem
I truly enjoyed reading your thoughts and brilliant imagery
Peace be with you
"Welcome to The Den"
William
To not be grouchy is a very long lesson to learn once we have grown up. (A truth we knew so well, though, as children!)
Blessings,
Christine
Grandma Condon used to have a neighbor down the hill that owned all the farmland for miles around, and they had their own grist mill to make flour. If we helped with the chores, the boys had to work in the barn, and we worked around the house, feeding the animals and collecting the eggs from the henhouse. But because we did help with the chores, we were allowed to pick anything from their fields, that we could use. My pre-adolescence was a very good time for me, this poem reminded me of those days. Thank you for sharing Marcia.
May the Lord Bless you, and those whom you love, and be with you always, and walk by your side. With love in my heart, joy to the world, peace on earth, & ((((((((((MANY WONDERFUL SISTERLY HUGGGGSSSS)))))))))), your den sister Barbie
Anna
Cheers,
Dan
Nicely conveyed emotion of childrens' viewpoint herein.
Be Well,
Carolyn
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen