You ought to have seen what I saw on my way
To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day:
Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum
In the cavernous pail of the first one to come!
---from the poem "Blueberries" by Robert Frost
Fresh summer berries are one of God's greatest gifts. Some of my poet friends have written amazing poems about picking berries and cherries.
Prompts:
1. Do you have any memories of picking fruit in the summer? Write about one.
2. What kind of summer fruit would you pick to describe yourself? Why?
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