Strawberries

Strawberries

Written By Sophia Casas

The spring fields are green,

The strawberries are red,

What a ravishing scene,

The grass is widespread.

The morning is new,

The occasional cloud,

The truf wrapped in dew,

The trees are wind-bowed.

Birds spy the red fruit,

And fill their small cup,

The rest are astute,

They take and fly up.

In trees they consume,

Seeds fall to the sod,

Small plants grow and bloom,

More strawberries are abroad.