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"To the Blueberry Bush" a poem by Izzy Mohr

You were planted

Many years ago.

In our yard

At home, you sit.

You bloom in the summer

And freeze over in the winter.

We pick your berries made of blue.

Blue like the deep dark ocean.

You are sweet and ripe

And beautiful. 

You are kissed by the sun,

So perfect.

Insides made of gold 

Just for us to enjoy.


We get out the basket and sunscreen.

We walk down the hill.

We pick the berries and swat away the bees.

Laughs and fun.

The sun on our skin. 

It's time to go inside and eat.

-Izzy Mohr, freshman


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