Blueberry

 

I hold a single blueberry
Firm velvet
Fresh
Grown in Chili packed in California
Ready with others
For my breakfast oatmeal bowl

I meditate on the picker
Was she or he
Young or old
Happy or sad
Sick or well

Thousands of kilometers
And light years of culture
Separate this picker's
Delicate task from my table
My world

I say a silent prayer for 
Their safety dignity and
Mine





Poetry by josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 28 times
Written on 2021-07-21 at 14:17

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Quietly powerful, and I concur with those who've already spoken their praises.
2021-07-22


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
I very much enjoyed this morning meditation on the seemingly mundane.
2021-07-22


Steven Riddle The PoetBay support member heart!
Dear Josephus,

In Florida, I have many times seen whole families in the strawberry fields, bent over and picking From Grandma to the youngest legal age for a child to work. Everyone, so that I can eat strawberries. It is very, very sobering, and this poem brings those experiences back to mind. I add my prayers to yours and will take action, in some little way, to make life easier for at least one of these migrant families. Consider your work for the day done. Thank you so much for a beautiful reminder.

Steven
2021-07-21