A Strawberries’ Poem

Open windows, winding rode.

Z: Yum.

J: I’m going to eat all of them.

Boys in the backseat playing jell-o, moving with the car to and fro.

Aunty A: What is it that you like so much about strawberries?

Fields full of food ripening on the ground, surrounding rode for miles.

Z: The sweetness.  I like the fur on the outside.

J: It’s the loveliness, the sweetness.

Z: It’s the taste in the middle. The center inside is full of maple.

J: Yeah, maple. They taste like maple.

The sun is hot enough to burn, west coast April afternoon.

Aunty A: Sounds like a poem, we should write a strawberries poem.

Instead we talk about agriculture and bio-mimicry. J and Z take turns handing up strawberries to Aunty V.

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About detangledprosereview

I am a HUMAN RIGHTS advocate with a knack for inter-contextually. I am a STORYTELLER, a ceramists, a pan-art lover, a feminist, and a humanist.
This entry was posted in California, Creative Nonfiction, Malibu. Bookmark the permalink.

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