Marlane Wurzback

Blueberries hang
like fat little ornaments
on the bright green shrubs
reminding me of Christmas
after 48 years of gathering
sleighs & bells & angels
each with a story

It is a good thing
they do not ripen all
at once or we would never
be able to keep up with them
before the neighborhood
birds cleaned them up
one berry at a time

During August I’ll
pick a gallon every week
to bag & toss in the freezer
Purple ornaments to sweeten
the gray days of winter Gifts
from bright green shrubs
that keep on giving


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
This entry was posted in free verse, poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Blueberries

  1. sounds lovely – we never had much success with our blueberries…


  2. it’s said we’re having a bumper crop here in NH

    Liked by 1 person

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