Blueberries for All

Sam Aureli

I give thanks for the rows

of blueberry shrubs, tall as old

men, nodding by the shed,

remnants of a farm

no one claims anymore.

Every morning, turkeys strut in,

heads bowed, then suddenly

leaping, wings clumsy,

snatching the highest fruit.

Jays and robins dart behind,

sharp-eyed, quick-clawed,

stripping branches bare.

People ask how I fend them off.

As if I would.

As if I could.

I let them feast.

By dawn, the bushes bend again,

heavy with what’s beyond owning.

Old stone walls murmur mine,

but birds don’t listen.

Wild things take what they need,

as they always have.

I stand in their shadows,

palms open,

watching.

Published in Issue No. 7, Littera Novus, April 1st, 2025.

Sam Aureli is a design and construction professional from Italy, living in Boston, MA. He turned to poetry later in his journey, seeking refuge from the chaos of daily life. Sam looks forward to the weekend, watching birds feed in the back yard, finding inspiration in the quiet moments. His work has been accepted in Atlanta Review, Amethyst Review, Loft Books, Coverstory Books, Rough Diamond Poetry, Prosetrics The Magazine.