Möte med björn

 

Blueberry Hill

Elaine Henderson

For the Love of Blueberries

It was a warm fall day

My father in law and I 

Were fishing on 

Bottle Lake 

An isolated lake  

In the north end of the county 

Miles of uninhabited bush 

Stood between the lake 

And the nearest county road 

We had hiked in the 3 miles 

Taken up our positions 

And sat chatting as our lines 

Dangled in the still waters 

Not much was biting 

Then lunch rolled around 

And a patch of blueberries 

Straddling the crest  

Of the nearby hill 

Looked like the ideal spot 

To pick our dessert 

With plastic bowl in hand 

I worked my way up 

The north side of the patch 

Picking the blueberries 

Just as I crested the hill 

I met a black bear 

Who'd been working his way 

Up the south side of the patch 

We exchanged a brief glance 

And then went down the hill 

In the direction we had come up 

I don't know about the bear 

But I was on the dead run.

                        Raymond Farrell

Den här dikten får mig att tänka på barnboken Blueberries for Sal, av Robert McCloskey som jag skrev om för flera år sedan. 

Illustration från Blueberries for Sal