Strawberry

The sun seems to beat down on me,
Even in the shade of the tree.
My hair feels pasted to my head;
All of a sudden, something stirs the hot air.
At first, I don’t feel it,
But I stand up.
Suddenly, it touches me.
It feels wonderful
As the refreshing breeze touches my face,
It seems to beckon me
As I follow it,
My eyes are drawn to a tiny bright spot
In the moss.
I stoop down as my fingers reach out
To touch it.
It seems too fragile. I dare not take it —
Yet it slips into my hand,
Giving itself up to me.
And then it’s in my mouth
And my whole body suddenly feels refreshed
By its juicy, sweet, delicious goodness.
I feel freed from the hot summer day.
Thank you, mother earth, for your small
But wonderful
Gift.

Taryn Hill

Date: 1994