Home » Poems » L Milton Hankins » Come July, Blackberries

Come July, Blackberries

Come July, blackberries ripen on prickly vine Hug fence-lines defining the dusty country road Twittering thrushes flutter, chirping while they dine Come July, blackberries ripen on prickly vine Sweeter fruits like faceted black diamonds shine. Picking must begin before tall grasses are mowed Come July, blackberries ripen on prickly vine Hug fence-lines defining the dusty country road.

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D.W. Rodgers

Date: 5/19/2021 4:59:00 PM

Well crafted, your poem brought back fond memories of blackberries on my grandfather's farm in Kansas, along English country lanes and on Vancouver Island. Extremely invasive but oh so good.

L Milton Hankins
Date: 5/19/2021 5:39:00 PM

Ah, thanks, D.W. I'm so glad you liked it and that it brought back fond memories. I love it when my poems do this.

Rico Leffanta

Date: 5/19/2021 12:22:00 PM

My late wife never missed a season of blackberry picking, so our children received OJT on life's pricks! Aloha! Rico

L Milton Hankins
Date: 5/19/2021 1:11:00 PM

LOL. I never thought of it quite that way! Thanks for the smile, Rico. Aloha. I spent 3-1/2 years in Hawaii in the Air Force way back when.

Gershon Wolf

Date: 5/18/2021 8:55:00 PM

Sweet treatment, Milt. Takes me to a country road teeming with berry bushes by its side. ~ Country Gershon

L Milton Hankins
Date: 5/18/2021 9:58:00 PM

LOL. You pick'em, I'll help you eat'em!

Ann Foster

Date: 5/18/2021 1:26:00 PM

So much fun... and a wonderful subject. Excellent all the way around. Ann

L Milton Hankins
Date: 5/18/2021 6:05:00 PM

Thank you, Ann. I appreciated your read and your comment.

Robert L. Hinshaw

Date: 5/18/2021 12:45:00 PM

I really enjoyed your write, Milton. Reminded me so much of growing up on a farm in Indiana and blackberry/raspberry picking time, stained fingers and all! Better yet was the scrumptious jams and jellies my Mom made. Bob H

L Milton Hankins
Date: 5/18/2021 1:22:00 PM

So true, Robert. Warm memories for me, as well.

Heidi Sands

Date: 5/18/2021 12:28:00 PM

This is a great Triolet. I can see them hugging the fence, along the dusty road and them shining like black diamonds. So nice. :)

L Milton Hankins
Date: 5/18/2021 1:22:00 PM

Thank you, Heidi. I'm glad you enjoyed my poem.

Jan Allison

Date: 5/18/2021 12:22:00 PM

ooh makes me think of autumn and picking fruit or apple and blackberry pies, a delightful poem Milton:-) hugs Jan xx

L Milton Hankins
Date: 5/18/2021 12:23:00 PM

Thanks so much, Jan. My grandma made the best blackberry pies if we would go pick them. When she was a little girl, she lost an eye while blackberry-picking.

Daniel Turner

Date: 5/18/2021 12:14:00 PM

You are making this ol' country boy's mouth water. I love blackberries but I hate picking them as far as black diamonds, shoot everybody loves cold watermelon in July:) Good one Milton! You must be from the south:)

L Milton Hankins
Date: 5/18/2021 12:18:00 PM

I am West Virginia mountaineer born and bred. I recall so well picking blackberries along the roadside near my grandparents' home. Thanks for your read and your comment. Hey! I love watermelon, too, but I love it with salt, and I can't eat salt anymore. Doctors keep finding ways to deprive me of life's little pleasures!