Blueberry Afternoon

The sun dodges the fluffy clouds

rising high across the aqua sky

Below rows of bushes behind the barn,

stand sweltered and dry

Their simple length of shade

the only cool place to lay

Thousands of polished berries

the leaves attempt to shield

Ripe and plump they wait, speckled

throughout the farmer’s field

Where greedy little hands are sent

to stealthily pluck and steal away

To brim straw baskets

with their next sweet meal of the day

Only when the fleet of gatherers finally

retreat from the fierce closing heat

All that can be found are frost-blue lips

hiding the juice-stained teeth

Signs that tell Grandpa

there's none for him to eat