Berries and Butterflies

We picked berries that summer
carefully laying them in the bucket
as grasshoppers jumped to ride our skirts
and a purple butterfly danced just in front of us

Stopping to admire Mrs. Jenkins' flower garden
we hastened on our way when she yelled at us,
"You stay away from my flowers. You hear? Scoot!|
A mean woman she was and we knew
butterflies would never dance for her.

Skipping past Mr.Crawford's cornfield we saw it
just about ready for harvest a good yield it would be
Mama would make us wear old shirts on backwards
to cover our dresses from the dripping butter
running down our fingers from the choice ones she'd boil up
the others she'd use for relish making to sell at the Fair.

Excited to show Mama how many berries we picked
we ran into the kitchen and got yelled at for getting stains
on our clothes just as a grasshopper jumped off my skirt
and Mama starting swatting and yelling louder and louder
while it jumped and jumped just out of her reach
and we wondered about Mama and dancing butterflies