Poem for her 907

 Traffic Jam Strawbeeries

The strawberries were big and ripe

And we had so many that year

The jars were labeled

Traffic Jam

It was also to honor having so few of them

Up where we lived

The rain might make a creek over flow

Snow could pile up as well

Hardly any traffic jams to speak of

Only in the strawberry patch

Strawberry pie for the picnicTuesday

 

Happy Birthday Babe,

 

Charles.