Red berries gleam in silver
metal. A bucket
with orange rusty handle stands
alone by the old slave
wall that follows the narrow twisting
road that leads to Sandstone Falls.
Beside the river, the road,
the wall, the bucket
she stoops, gray hair shining
with sweat as she searches
wall that follows the narrow twisting
road that leads to Sandstone Falls.
Beside the river, the road,
the wall, the bucket
she stoops, gray hair shining
with sweat as she searches
for berries whose thorns
rip her flannel shirt and skin
as she fills her bucket
to the brim.
“Best be watchful of snakes,” I say.
“Snakes?”
She answers, smiling.
“That’s what this hoe is for.”
“That’s what this hoe is for.”
4 comments:
brings back memories.
You have touched all of my senses!
Ah, this was fabulous. I really loved it. Now there's an old lady I want to go berry picking with. She knows where the ripest berries are there are bound to be snakes and moves ahead undaunted (with hoe in hand, of course), there is a lesson to be learned in that, but I'll leave you all to figure it out. Fine work Granny Sue, just wonderful.
Hey Sue,
Glad to see you found your way down out of that holler again. I was fixin' to send the dogs lookin' for you.
Nice work as always. I was always told the snakes came to berries to catch the birds that come to eat the berries. I never did ask them if that was true or not, but I knew you could just about always count on their company. At least until the hoe fell. :D
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