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All morning in the strawberry field


They talked about the Russians.


Squatted down between the rows


We listened.


We heard the head woman say,


'Bomb them off the map.'



Horseflies buzzed,


paused and stung.


And the taste of strawberries


Turned thick and sour.



Mary said slowly,


'I've got a fella Old enough to go.


If anything should happen...'



The sky was high and blue.


Two children laughed at tagIn the tall grass,


Leaping awkward and long-legged


Across the rutted road.


The fields were full of bronzed young men


Hoeing lettuce, weeding celery.



'The draft is passed,' the woman said.


'We ought to have bombed them long ago.'


'Don't,' pleaded the little girl


With blond braids.



Her blue eyes swam with vague terror.


She added petishly, 'I can't see why


You're always talking this way...


''Oh, stop worrying, Nelda,


'Snapped the woman sharply.


She stood up, a thin commanding figure


In faded dungarees.


Businesslike she asked us,


'How many quarts?'


She recorded the total in her notebook,


And we all turned back to picking.



Kneeling over the rows,


We reached among the leaves


With quick practiced hands,


Cupping the berry protectively before


Snapping off the stem


Between thumb and forefinger.






"A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool."- William Shakespeare

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So I have been neglecting this blog like a middle child, but I have a poem for you lovely people kind enough to follow. Enjoy!

You think you know; but not a soul does

Hiding in the shadows and under dust

Gliding past you unnoticed

Biding it's time , waiting in silence

Tormenting you with, night after night

To face the lurking beast; your heart's desire

Sliping from your bed at God's knows what hour

Banish the darkness with the filcker of light

but in that corner lies nothing more than the reflection of fire

Yield your search and curiosity retire

No good can come from seeing that not meant for your eyes

The sun is rising and with it goes your chance to catch

That beast, no man was ever meant to catch.



"A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool."- William Shakespeare

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