Pocket Full of Strawberries

I remember those days Stifling heat Scorching our hides How we ached for relief Shade of an Evergreen tree Sparse of needles Long-legged Snipes Wilting in the afternoon sun Just like us Earth so dry Even grass could hardly grow Grasshoppers Surrounding each and every step The chirp and hiss of thousands Katydids chiming in We did what we were told to do "Stay outside and play!" With what? The dust? The dirt? Crawling and scratching about Where boredom reigns Seeking refuge Inside the bones of the house Damp and cool Scented sweet with mold Into the grey Crawl space Old tea cups and love letters School books and little dolls With scarred eyes and patchy hair Most days we were outside The adults got to talk and sit Blinds drawn to keep out the heat What whispers Lay hidden inside those walls Suffering heat We walked forever it seemed In search of something... Anything Flushed and with thirst And there in dust and dirt A tiny pearl of crimson Smaller than a garden pea We'd taste the first So fragrant and sweet Explosive on our tongues How carefully we'd collect The tiny remnants Scrounging around, on bare knees Elbows resting in the gravel Pocking our flesh Filling our palms Lining our pockets Late afternoon, a scramble Such pride in our bounty Gramma always had scrap of dough Little tarts for each of us Pastry dry and crumbly Saved by the sweetness of the berries Triumph Of our day