1) We had come
to a clearing
where thousands
of blueberry bushes grew.
There was the packing house--
a small building
with open and screenless
windows.
"Farm Labor Transport"
marked the bus
out front.
The driver stood
beside his bus.
He was tall and amiable,
with bare feet.
He wore green
trousers and a T-shirt.
The work day had come
to an end.
Swarming an old pump
were old women,
middle-aged men and a young girl.
Inside the packing house,
berries were rolling.
up a conveyor belt
into pint boxes.
Packing boxes
was Charlie's sister.
His daughter-in-law
was placing cellophane on them.
And Jim, Charlie's son,
was supervising.
Charlie picked up a pint box
where berries were mounded
and told me,
supermarket chains
knocked off mounds
of extra berries
and put them in new boxes,
getting three or four
extra pints per twelve-box tray.
At a window,
pickers turned in tickets
of various colors, where
they were given cash.
One picker,
in his sixties, tapped Charlie
on the arm
and showed him a thick
packet of tickets
held together by a rubber band.
"I found these,
they must've fallen
out of your son's pocket."
He gave the packet
to Charlie, who
thanked him
and counted the tickets.
"These are worth
seventy-five dollars,"
Charlie said.
2) in a clearing
where
blueberries grew
was a packing house
with a bus out front
the driver
was tall and amiable
with bare feet
the work day had come
to an end
inside
berries rolled
up a conveyor
into boxes
a window,
pickers turning
in tickets
for cash
a picker
tapped Charlie
on the arm
"I found these."
Charlie thanked him
and counted the tickets
they are worth
seventy-five dollars
No comments:
Post a Comment