My Hometown

a memory of when I was growing up on Route 55 in Eldred.

I go with my Mom and my sister for a walk

 to the meadow behind our house 

to relax, and pick blueberries.

Hope we don't see a bear!

The grass is golden on the August afternoon.

It is too hot for bugs, 

that makes it a perfect day

not a cloud in the azure sky.

We each half fill our coffee cans with blueberries

and head back to a shady spot under an apple tree.

We eat blueberries to our hearts content.

Their sweet crispness bursting in our mouths.

this time there were no berries left for pancakes.

The sun sets and we catch fireflies 

in our now empty coffee cans.

Walking back we hear the katydids and 

whippoorwills singing their songs.

Reviews

[Kevin Horsley]

Beautiful poem, reminds me so much of summertime. Only we pick brambles on our walks, the Horse Chestnut trees are usually laden with their fruits ready for conker season to begin in September.
And the various sounds of insects and birds all around on lazy afternoons, much more pleasant than the rush of traffic.