Page Title

When August almost says farewell
      And September says hello,
We children ramble through the fields
      To a place few people know . . . 

​

To a hedgerow packed with blackberries -
     And in a hidden spot -
But we hope that no-one's found our hedge
     And then have picked the lot!!

​

These berries - tempting, succulent -
     Sit shining in the sun.
Small fingers stretch to reach the best
     And  gather every one.

​

There, in the sun, they gently warm
    And change from green to black,
But they’ll not all go back with us
     For lots will make a snack.

​

Into the mouth - delicious - sweet!
   Oh how they stain the tongue! -
But who would care about such things,
     Especially when you’re young?

​

With briar-scratched hands we pick and pick
    And you’ll never hear us grumble
For tonight our Mum has promised us
     A blackberry and apple crumble.  

​

Copyright on all my poems