When I was young, my grandmother would tell me stories
about her grandparents.
There were stories about the origins of the universe.
Legends that connected me to my world.
Embedded in the stories were admonitions to live a worthy life.
Sometimes, when I walk out with my daughter to pick berries,
I think about those lessons . . .
Mama, we have to pick all the blackberries so the bugs don't get any . . .
There's plenty of berries for you, me, and the beetles, baby girl.
I don't like the beetles. See that one?
Where? Oh, look how beautiful and shiny his wings are. . . the beetle respects us. We should respect the beetle.
What about the birds? Do we have to share with them?
Plenty of berries for them, too.
But, why, mama?
Because our Mother tells us to share with others. Don't eat so many, there won't be any left in the bucket.
I only eat the ones I pick . . .
Alright, girl.
Mama. . . ?
Yes?
Do you want to pick blackberries alone now?
Are you wanting to go and play? Go on, then, baby girl.
Our kids always do seem to find a polite, kind and gentle way of letting us know that they are a little bored with us, at times. for others, it may be a different experience entirely, but most of the children I have been around in my family will let an old man down easily...
Well, there goes my haikus about blackberry picking. . . I even was going to use your title. This is a wonderful poem that really catches the essence of children and parents and picking blackberries. I think we are all hitching onto similar wavelengths here at times.
Tom
This is so endearing - what a wonderful mother you are - these are important lessons. My son once found a dead luna moth and told me that we needed to set it on fire to set its soul free - we can learn as much from the young folk at times as well. Thank you for sharing this - it is delightful.
Light,
Siddartha
It reads like a children's book, which should give you an idea. I think that the storyline of a child with a wise old adult learning life lessons through nature offers a wonderful concept, which you seem to have seized and pulled off quite nicely.
I love you amazing gift to capture the simple life and appreciate it for all its beautiful intricacies. Some people make life so complicated when it can be so very simple.
to the Lost Boys
I am no Wendy;
but my voice brings you back to me.
And you sit around my feet,
anxious for a story
or a kiss.
Listening to my words
spinning adventures,
like so much g.. more..