Blackberry Pie

 

Plump black berries hang in clusters

Just waiting to be picked

One by one I pluck them

And drop then into the bowl

Squatting, I reach for more

Sometimes the best are hard to get

I pull my arm back, berries in hand

My arm is covered in purple juice

I stand and walk inside with my bounty

 

As I wash my hands with soap

Trying in vain to remove the stain

Old childhood memories flood back

Each summer we visited the country

My grandma would hand us a coffee can

And we’d head to thick blackberry bushes

Then return with stained hands and shirts

We gave the berries to our grandma

And she would bake a wonderful pie

 

Now I make the pie that grandma made

I cut the lard into the flour

Carefully I roll out the dough

Then place it in my favorite pie tin

The plump juicy berries go inside

Sprinkled with sugar and tapioca

More dough on top then into the oven

Soon the house smells amazingly sweet

The bubbly pie is pulled from the oven

We wait for it to cool with anticipation