Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2017
in cool piney shade
on squat bushes spread
wild blueberries grow
on soft, mossy bed

or under the ferns
among meadowsweet
on berms in the sun
but sheltered from heat

or on a bush rising
almost to my waist
so loaded with berries
it bends down and sways

I'm picking them
plump and cool with the dew
in dappled sun under the pines
morning turns into afternoon
I'm losing all sense of time

cicadas' shrillness,
a chorus of crickets,
the red squirrel's noisy chatter,
a crow's voice somehow reminds me of spring,
but time just doesn't matter...
I pick a lot of them
Written by
John Niederbuhl  NY State-Adirondack Mts
(NY State-Adirondack Mts)   
  769
   Glass and Cinzia
Please log in to view and add comments on poems