Saturday July 5th, 2014

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: location(, location, location).

We're fortunate to be farming in a place where the weather often allows us to have the first fruit in the region. The apricots that were picked here for the first time yesterday likely won't be ready at any of the other farms who attend the market in Penticton until sometime next week.

Which means we were the only ones selling them this morning.

Which, at least in part, explains why we sold all of the 300 pounds of apricots we brought with us, with the last pound leaving the table shortly before 12:30. The fact that they were big and beautiful and delicious did the rest of the work for us.

Since we are between helpers, Kat and Max came up with me in the truck early this morning. Max spent most of the drive playing a harmonica that our bakery friends lent (gave?) us. It was pretty amazing how far he progressed in less than an hour.

He then proceeded to spend the market stealing raspberries, apricots, and cherries off of the table (in between going for walks and listening to buskers).

Good day, but I am very tired and ready for bed now. How tired am I? I originally spelled lent in the fifth paragraph as leant. And I was very confused, if only for a moment, as to why that wasn't right.

Good night.

Mine:

A world class realtor
Finally met his match
When he was tasked with selling
A dress shop in a briar patch

4 Comments:

Greg said...

I'm sure that looking after your helpers is more work than looking after Max :) That sounds like a very pleasant market the way you describe it, and the apricots do sound amazing (I still prefer raspberries though). 300lbs... wow, that's a lot. And you sold them all!
Heh, great little poem with a lovely touch of humour as well; very nice after such a long day!

Location
She always said it was her vocation
To sit on a pole in this very location.
Unlike the others, I never jeered,
But – the bottom of a well? – that's just weird.

ivybennet said...

Take me there,
To where the expanse of blue
Is not but the union between
Calming seas and tranquil skies.

christine said...

The fields I walked in when young,
Encircling the home of my dreams,
Filled with my family -
Location - heaven.

Marc said...

Greg - my helpers are slightly better behaved. At least while I'm around...

Wonderfully bizarre poem this week :)

Ivybennet - mmm, take me too. That sounds lovely.

Christine - hello and welcome! I hope you find the blog useful and find time to share more of your writing with us in the future :)

Really enjoyed the sentiment and descriptions in your poem. Nicely done.