(The audio recording is of the last two stanzas which I recorded while picking blueberries. If you listen closely, you might be able to hear the pie tins and birds.)

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Blueberry Poem

Follow the shade in the morning for as long as you can,
Hopping down the row, down the hill, from bush to bush.
The way the sunlight falls through the hedgerow and the trees above it
Leaves some shady splotches and then some sun-soaked bits.

In the morning, if you follow the shade you'll stay cooler.
And you'll spend less time bent over picking in the sun
With your shirt climbing up your back,
Leaving your lower back exposed.

The blueberry patch is a battle field this morning.
The birds have pecked away at least half the berries on the first bush, the second bush.
I continue down the hill to the third bush and then decide that following the shade is a better idea.
And so I jump several bushes down.

Luckily, these bushes seem to have fewer damaged berries.
At the crest of the hill, it is difficult to leave anything remotely blue on the bush
Knowing that each berry could and will be the next victim.

Pick carefully.
Look at those beautiful handfuls of big, blue berries.
Find the ones the birds have pecked.
Pick them all
And put the pecked ones in the freezer bin,
The full ones in the larger box.

Sit down wherever you can.