Mary Oliver Poem #6: "August"
Upon delving into Mary Oliver's enchanting poem "August," I found myself swept away by a rush of joy, accompanied by a poignant twinge of nostalgia. Since as far back as memory serves, my family's annual summer tradition for my birthday involved a pilgrimage to Eckert’s Farm in Belleville, Illinois, where we eagerly plucked peaches and blackberries. And this past August was no exception. We awakened predawn so that we could try and beat the blistering summer heat, where we drove from St. Louis to Belleville singing songs and playing car games to pass the time. We then would embark on the harvesting of a lifetime, filling basket after basket of peaches and blackberries galore. While picking, we always stop and have a competition to see who can find the juiciest and biggest piece of fruit upon which we can all indulge. These are some of my most cherished memories that I hold so deeply in my heart. Mary Oliver identifies a certain freedom of the fruit being untouched by ...




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