She stood in the middle o’ the damp soil with a cold hoe clutched to her begloved hand.
“I wonder what the roulette says.”
She pulled up her striped shirt & looked @ the black splotch on her upper arm. It swirled under the drops o’ rail till it showed the silhouette o’ a berry with triangular fringes splaying @ the top.
She looked up @ the spray o’ clouds ‘cross the horizon.
“Looks like good weather for blueberries…”