Strawberries, 2023 - Jeannette Cook

I can’t seem to grow more than four strawberries

At a time.

Each one takes its own size and shape:

Smaller, larger, lighter, darker.

Each forms itself and ripens on the vine,

A world unto itself,

Its own red entity.

So there is no jam, no preserves;

There is only this, four of a kind,

Some might say negligible bounty.

I want for nothing.