I was given a clutch of books this week and in one was this poem by Genevieve Taggard. Instantly I remembered picking blackberries in Greenmeadows with Val and Jim and eating blackberries and picking more and eating more…and eating more…those days when every summer’s day was hot and the skies were endless blue and we were free to roam. We had a bucket and when we came home without it, I had to go back and find it. I found it, ate some more blackberries, threw some in the bucket to pacify Mum and then trundled home as the sun was going down and the light in the sky was all shades of pink with a few thin blue streaks and I was so tired I could hardly eat my tea and only had a token wash before I fell into bed and dreamed of eating my way through the blackberries…
Millions of Strawberries
Marcia and I went over the curve
Eating our way down
Jewels of strawberries we didn’t deserve,
Eating our way down.
Till our hands were sticky and our lips painted
And over us the hot day fainted, and we saw snakes,
And got scratched,
And a lust overcame us for the red unmatched
Small buds of berries,
Till we lay down –
Eating our way down –
And rolled in the berries like two little dogs.
Rolled
In the late gold
And gnats hummed
And it was cold
And home we went, without a berry,
Painted red and brown,
Eating our way down.
