Tonight I gather,
picking fruits from other’s words.
Gleaning,
as I watch, wait, and learn.
Picking of experience
to stow,
safe in pockets.
Like berries on a bush,
tiniest of fruits.
Some are bitter, some are sweet,
all with bursting flavors greet.
Many is the harvest if
one will glean
the moment’s gift.
©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef
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Mary Grace Writing 