Fine Day Poem by Carolyn Brunelle

A young snip of a city girl
with her dancing green eyes
hidden behind a spray of freckles
and laughter in her mouth
races barefooted to the garden
hoping to beat the others;
eager to explore and help with farm chores.
Tomatoes are fairly bursting from the vines.
She finds the choicest, ripest and reddest one
still warm from the sun, bites heartily into its side;
lets the sweet juice run unrestrained down her chin
and declares...
'what a fine day for pickin'! '