Three young girls, ages totaling twenty-four
Take down the basket and run out the door
Carefully they pluck only the ripe ones
From between thorns and honey bee flight runs
Sweet Blackberries stain fingers bright red
Pretending blood, “Look, I’m hurt”, they said
Finally, basket and tummies are full
They’re bringing them in to wash and to cull
Blackest and sweetest from reddish sours
Blend and pour. Ice-pops in a few hours
It’ll be a sweet treat when we return
From swimming I’m hoping with no sunburn
Person made lake has sandy bottom
Shade and life guards, so glad we got ‘em
Three young girls laughing and playing
Don’t want to leave, they’d rather be staying
Remembering the blackberry pops
The resistance to going soon stops
Singing sweet school songs on the way back
Teaching words, humming birds, each one on track
To being full humans with multi-dimensions
Hearing their joy, keeping tears in suspension
Sweet reveries of my own friends at eight
So many years ago; lucky my fate
To have played fully, running in the hills wild
Lucky and lovely to witness this grandchild
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