By: Robert A. Davies

She blessed us when we came
a lady in her 80s
bent over, face wrinkled
a voice sweet and thin.

We had come for strawberries.
She directed us to the farthest field.
Again she blessed us.

We walked forever
and, yes, the berries there
were ripe and Shuksan.

Several fields were wild,
blackberries and tall grass.
In a nearby field
a picking machine idled.

We returned, she weighed the berries
couldn’t see the numbers.
We helped her figure
what we owed
paid and prepared to leave.
She showered us with blessings.
Such a sweet lady
managing her fields.

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Robert A. Davies has published in recent years largely online. He has been writing poems seriously since 1969. He has published Timber, Tracks in Oregon, Melons and Mendelssohn, and Bluff Hollow. He was co-editor of Mr. Cogito for about 20 years. He has recently appeared in Dissident Voice, Hollywood Progressive, Literary Yard and Windfall. rjdavies3@comcast.net