Wild Strawberry Song



Wild strawberries...
pick them on a sunny hillside
among harebells, clover
and sweet-scented grasses –
the forest on your right,
its canopy jingling with bird calls
and dragonflies jewel the air –
the pasture on your left
where dark-eyed cows graze,
fuelled by content, courted
by glittering flies.

Wild strawberries...
pick them in the fragrant field,
thread them like beads
on a stalk of grass,
remember, timothy is best.

Wild strawberries...
pick them while the sun
nuzzles the nape of your neck.

Wild strawberries ...
they’re yours, too.
Come.

Jane Røken

If you have any comments on this poem, Jane Røken would be pleased to hear from you.