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The
berry season's long since past.
It seems it came and went too fast.
Just when they were best to eat
We had our fiercest summer heat.
No sooner were they ripe and lush
Than most of them had turned to mush.
Now I'm set so I won't miss
The Southern woodland's sweetest kiss,
And here amid the oaks and pines
I've climbed up high among the vines
And found a wealth of muscadines.
David Martin
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