Berry Picking

The mosquitoes

flock to the chalky

sweat from the children’s

blue hands.

The children do more

thinking than picking.

We’ll be burnt before

the baskets fill.

I’m surprised –

the vines, heavy-low,

dispense and bloom and

the berries don’t hide.

The children eat them

from the ground. They dimple

at the dirt and juice,

grin blue, seedy teeth.

The children flush,

and won’t leave the

baskets alone, as

I drive away.