Picking Strawberries

Today is Day 17 of NaPoWriMo! I followed the prompt to write a poem involving "a specific variety of edible plant," using at least one repeated phrase, and comparing the lifespan of the plant with my own lifespan. This seemed a daunting task for me, but I think I mostly met the requirements of the prompt.

Picking Strawberries
By Candace Shultz

Years ago under a hot Pennsylvanian sun,
I walked through rows of June-bearing
strawberries, careful not to step on even one.
My brother and sisters kneeled nearby,
their fingers plucking strawberries from leaves,
placing their prizes in half-filled baskets.
Our mom stood close, watching our endeavors,
sweat glistening on her forehead from early summer heat.
At last I spotted a bright red strawberry nestled
under green leaves. I plucked it carefully
and placed it gently in my basket, warmth
on my skin and in my heart, and I continued
to search for the next sweet strawberry among the leaves.

Fifteen years later, three times the life of that 
June-bearing strawberry plant from years ago,
I stood under a hot English sun, watching
my daughter walk through a different field,
so many rows of Vibrant strawberries ready
to be plucked by small eager hands. She kneeled
nearby me with her basket half-filled with sweet
red strawberries, her blue-brimmed hat shielding
her young face from the burning June sun.
Sweat glistened on my forehead from early summer heat.
I felt the familiar warmth on my skin and in my heart
as I watched her place another strawberry
in her basket and as she continued to search
for the next sweet strawberry among the leaves.