Blueberries

Blueberries

Opaque gray-blue,
polished purple-black,
they are hidden in clear view
along the rocky mountain path.

I savor the complexity of tastes
stored within their tough skins.
Sweet and spicy,
their deep flavor is rooted
in the warmth of the sun,
harsh wind and rain,
volcanic ash of the soil,
and there is an essence
of something ancient
that I recognize
but do not understand.

Yet, the bear in me
seems to know it instinctively.
I pluck and pluck
the potent morsels,
hoping that I can store them
within my own tough skin
in order to survive
the vast coldness
of this world.

By Maria Brady-Smith

Photo by Mike Smith

13 thoughts on “Blueberries

  1. Happy Sunday morning. Its been a rough week for family, friends, acquaintances and strangers. There have been hurricanes, floods, wildfires and earthquakes, the devastating threat of the exportation of young people to countries they do not know, a family brokenhearted by the death of their son. And all the while, beauty and love and generosity and adventure surrounds us. How do we reconcile this?

  2. It reminds me that while we’re individuals we’re also a part of something bigger. If they hurt, we hurt.
    We do all we can to help.

    1. Thanks, Paul. I often think of you when I post. It helps to know there is a friendly reader out there!

  3. I’ll never look at blueberries the same, Maria. Thank you. To care and stay connected has a price. Love Mr Roger’s mothers saying,” in times like these look for the helpers.” Keep bringing your sunshine. It helps.

  4. Beautifully written, so glad to have discovered you! I picked blueberries for 20 years and you wrote like you knew them as well as me.

    1. Aw, thank you. That is a really nice complement. You must feel kinship to bears as well then:) Did you ever read “Blueberries for Sal”? One of my favorites.

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