Berry Picking Time

Berry Picking Time By Elton Camp The blackberry patch is off in the field A crop of tasty, dark berries are its yield Picking them the family does every year During all the decades we’ve lived here So that the sticky briers arms won’t hurt, I always put on an old long-sleeved shirt A syrup bucket is the container to pick With its metal handle, it does the trick I manage to reach the berry picking spot Before the autumn sun has made it too hot I look over here and then way over there Clusters of ripe berries I see everywhere Then the first blackberry vine I assail, Two in my mouth and one in the pail To control myself I’ll now have to try To pick enough for a blackberry pie There are the hungry wasps to share One over here and three over there While their need is greater than mine With a shake, I drive them off the vine As usual, those at the edge can’t match The berries toward the center of the patch I strike the vines and stomp them down By making trails I can easily get around After a while, my mission I have fulfilled My metal pail has now become well filled I feel so sorry for the haughty city slicker A man can do worse than be a berry picker