thoughts while eating elderberry jelly on my breakfast toast

in the old schoolyard
abandoned by laughing children,
elderberry bushes grew
heavy with purple fruit.
mother picked the tiny, juicy gems
to make our favorite pies and jellies,

while the radio chronicled the geography
of The War…occupations, casualties,
concentration camps.

today the old schoolyard
and berry bushes are gone.
we find elderberries
wherever we can…in superstores
or at local farmers’ markets,

while daily news of causalities
is flashed into our homes by satellite
and the geography of a new war lives on.

Donajean Durkin lives and writes on the shore of Green Bay waters, inspired by the arts and beauty of Door County and the friendship of kindred poets.