my friend was not back yet at his stone cabin where we were to meet so i wandered along his fields and called his name
then on his long strawberry field full of white blossoms among green leaves i spotted one ripe strawberry so early in the season it glowed and tempted me before I knew it its flavor melted on my tongue
i left a note drove away along the dirt road we almost collided for he came round a bend suddenly he told me he had worked in his olive grove that his shoulders were sore already he had eaten some of his own lettuce had planted tomatoes and seen one strawberry ripe
oh dear i must tell him i had just eaten it i expected him to be annoyed instead he said oh in about two weeks there will be baskets of them . . .
bluegreen as the creek’s