Strawberry Fields

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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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