Cranberry

By J.R.

If ‘twere the only thing summer brought

Sipping
An ice-cold glass of cranberry juice
Sitting
Upon a porch constructed of
Weather-beaten boards
Abused by all other seasons
Only to find itself once more
In the warm embrace of the early June sun

Then indeed would I be content
To welcome summer again
With my own arms’ embrace
Forsaking
The cold, winter winds
Welcoming
The simmering heat

O, such a small thing
Yet more
Make summer
A season worth living for