blueberry picking

The freshness of the orb
as I pop it in my mouth,
an explosion of blue juice
running down my chin,
staining fingers as they pick
and plop them into buckets:
one for the berry pail,
one on my tongue,
the promise of pies and
muffins and stacks of flapjacks
can wait as I gobble them
fresh off the bush…summer
in a pea-sized globe,
squishy and juicy
and mine, all mine! 

Liz McFadzean

Photos by Meredith Barnes