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Sunday, June 21, 2009
No Berries
I suppose the blueberries are ripe on the bush.
I suppose I should take myself up the road...
and fill my empty cartons.
Sun blisters and boils, humidity blankets...
Cicadas sing the chorus of languid summer.
I suppose...
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Christian - Modobject@Home
Living, loving, and capturing a beautiful life... with faith. I'm the happy wife of a professor and the mother of three.
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This is my Father's world.
He shines in all that's fair.
In the rustling grass I hear him pass
He speaks to me everywhere.
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Original text and images sole property of Modobject at Home. Please do not use or copy without permission.
My dance partner
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