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by Melva Holliman Praying for May in the south, Fragrance of sweetness in the air, Calling to my inner love, A love, of blueberry, bitter to taste. Load up the car with buckets, Tell the kids we will play a game, Off to the field we charge, Welcome blueberry season again. No warning needed when they are in bloom, They beckon to their lovers, And lack defense against the enemy, A predator that can ruin their beauty. Those that survive multiple, They are more than a berry, A cake, tart, pie, Possibilities are many. Melva Holliman graduated from the University of Mississippi with a Bachelor's in English and Philosophy. She is currently a graduate student at the University of South Alabama working towards a Master's in English.

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