Strawberry Fields


In the near distance

near enough to walk

so maybe not distant at all


She studies the contours of mountains


Robert Louis Stevenson

honeymooned on the summit

to her left


One thought leads to another


The crags taper off

many miles to the south

into vast strawberry fields


Dark-skinned men and women


Pick each sweet, red berry one by one

under a sun so hot

they dress like mummies for protection


At the end of their long day


They walk down the street

and listen to the taunts

try to decipher the English words


You’re stealing our jobs


From those who would not deign

to place boots on the ground in a strawberry field

if you paid them double plus overtime


Many more miles to the south


Mansions line the ocean

on the granite countertops

fresh strawberries sprout green mold in crystal bowls

Thanks for reading!


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