Blackberry Bandit

In the annuls of our family history

There’s a tale handed down through the years

Of a mysterious Blackberry Bandit

And how the crime was finally cleared

1960 we traveled to Petal,

Mississippi where my mom was raised

There we’d gather with all our relations

Shooting bull, breaking bread, wasting days.

My grandmother worked in the kitchen

Fixing food for our dinner that night

In the morning my uncles picked berries

For grandmother’s blackberry pie.

But all their dessert dreams were shattered

When Grandmother stormed in the room

In her hand was the bowl where the berries

Had allegedly all been consumed

Grandma’s rolling pin pointed at Mother

Who in the past pilfered sweets on the sly

Her brothers glared their accusation

“Whatever it takes, Sis, you owe us a pie.”

As the tension increased, in I toddled

With a satisfied look in my smile

And as the smell drifted up from my middle

They all cried, “Go change that child!”

Mom came back clutching that used up diaper

Held it open to their great surprise

With a grim smile she said, “Here’s your berries.

Sorry boys, there won’t be any pie.”

As I’ve grown through the years I can see that

Memories grow more precious with time

And the yarns that we spin when we gather,

Can be sweeter than Grandmother’s pie

So much sweeter than blackberry pie.