Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Pickin' Berries

A poem by
Mary Joan Mitchell Ross Williams

Grandmother went to pick berries one day,
She always wore a long dress of black.
My grandfather had gone to pile wood out back,
As he came out to the front door,
Looked way down the field real hard,
Saw a black figure in the shrubs,
He hollered, "Hey, old lady, get me some grub."
There was no answer, so he walked,
Toward the black figure he saw.
And as he got real close, he discovered it wasn't Grandma,
It was a black bear and as he rose up in the air,
You could hear my grandfather holler as he ran,
"Open the door, open the door, it's a bear."

This is a story told to Mary Joan Mitchell Ross by her father Everett Mitchell.

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