Thursday, January 22, 2009

Strawberry Fields Forever
















The Winter Strawberry Capital of the world
home of the annual Strawberry Festival
strawberry shortcake sold at corner stands
the smell of the berries warmed under the
Florida sun, fresh from the fields taste
of the sweet juicy pulp on my tongue.

I didn’t plan on living here, too country for
this country raised - turned city girl but here
I am, loving it all, looking out across our densely
treed front yard, to the comforting sight of cows
and cattle egrets where the orange trees used to thrive.

Home isn’t always where you plan to be
some times you end up in a place that
sings to a rhythm you already have and beckons
to you with outstretched arms when you are gone.

4 comments:

Victoria said...

I love the picture and the line about home isn't where you expect it to be - so true.

Mary said...

I do think the area where you live 'fits you' even if it is not where you planned to live!

Glenda said...

Beautiiful photo, and lovely poem. Makes me want to go there right now.

Lynne said...

Can't wait to experience the Strawberry Festival in person soon, Judy! Oh yum, your first paragraph has me salivating. I can smell those warm berries right now. As far as "home," it seems you and Bill are right where you're meant to be at this time.
Lynne