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Slim Pickings

Went with the kids to the blueberry farm, Everyone ready to pick. Armed with a bucket, we wandered the rows But somehow our luck ran out quick. For nary a berry on nary a bush, Except some real tiny and tart. The kids pulled a few, they went plunk in the pail; We were off to a not-so-great start. The season is ending this weekend, we heard; I guess that explains our dumb luck. We'll settle for strawberries that, in the store, We managed, when shopping, to pluck.

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Maurice Rigoler

Date: 8/26/2018 7:27:00 PM

In Maine right now the blueberries are still being picked. Only problem,the berries are very small, absent of juice, and not worth the effort to pick them by the roadside. Cherryfield Maine calls itself the blueberry capitol of the world, whether true or not. Could relate to this poem. / M

Jan Allison

Date: 8/26/2018 5:48:00 PM

My blueberry bush yields me one or two tiny fruit every day but I've had the most fabulous crop of summer fruits but they are long gone now. You'll have to get to the fruit farm earlier next year!:-) hugs jan xx

Gershon Wolf

Date: 8/26/2018 3:17:00 PM

Cute and clever. VERY enjoyable read, as usual. Thank you for giving us so many extraordinary ordinary verses. ~ Gershon

Caren Krutsinger

Date: 8/26/2018 12:34:00 AM

A sweet little poem. I am reminded of the scratched up bloody arms during the raspberry pickings of my youth, Ilene.