Today there was a Poetry Slam at our local library. A poetry “reading” was described to be like passively watching a golf tournament. A poetry slam is when you enthusiastically applaud everyone’s efforts and their bravery for getting up in front of an audience for the first time to share their inner most feelings.
My long time blueberry picking friend, Marsha Jackson, felt so moved by her experience of nature out in the patch that she debued her poem written after the season. Here are three verse of her well spoken poem just to give you a sampling. You need to come, stay at Cloud 9, pick your own blueberries, have your own attunement with nature and stay in the Blueberry Room where you will find this poem in its entirety. Thanks, Marsha.
Blueberry Morning
(exerpt)
Late June each year, I get the call
The blueberries have arrived!
Tiny orbs of ink blue beauty
Delightfully delicious, deeply prized.
Two milk jugs strung around my waist
I sauter down the path
Every bush or two, I sample a few
How I love the sweet tart taste!
As I leave loaded down with berries
I realize how deeply I’m attached
To the gifts and bounty of nature
Found in my beloved blueberry patch.
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