A poem about wild berries, by Jim.

My friend Jim emailed me this poem - inspired apparently by my post on brambling. He reckons he is a computer dummy, and couldn't post in the comments section. I reckon he's shy. I love the poem, so I am posting it for him.

"in the 30's & 40's i used to go around farmers hedge groves picking blackberries with my granny. we used to make tart apple & blackberry pies, as well as jam.
here's poem about another hedge grove culanry berry."

roman banks 1940’s
in ancient times the imperial army
camped on top of the roman embankment

nowadays the babbling brook meanders
singing softly to those soldiers of yesteryear

on one’s tod sloan a sharp eyed bairn walks
amongst grazing & cud chewing contented cows

whilst around him rabbits & weasels scurry free
a slow moving hedgehog is too spiny to touch

and from the birds nests in the hedge rows
he takes only one egg for his collection

white elder flowers he gathers for granny’s medicinal tea
& from blue-black elderberries she makes jelly & wine

come the days end a sharp bairn lays in the long grass
watching skylarks fall out of a fading sun.

jim