ode to strawberries

I see you made your debut in the produce aisle
your price creeping from four dollars to two ninety-nine
in just one week

I would be lying if I said I was completely amused by your pervasive influence
because even though you make my life complete
it also means a wonderful season (I dare say a most special season) will soon cease.

I can still wear my boots, but only for a little bit longer.
My scarf-wearing days and glossy carmex lips will slowly transform
to flip flops, air-dried wavy hair, and berry-stained lips

The unusual silence
that normally hovers the city in the fragile hours of the morning
will be replaced by chirping birds building nests and street cleaners
sucking up gravel so my car can come to a complete stop at the bottom of
a very steep hill

Boxwood wreaths, chunky sweaters, dutch cocoa, reds on whites and whites on reds.
Seeing my breath on chilly mornings while scraping off my car windows.
Feeling complete just to sit in a warm car
listening to Joshua Radin
Winter

This is my ode to strawberries
The thought of you is bitter but sweet.
After winter, must come spring
everything is everything

Cheers to a whole-heartedly amazing winter season,
here's to hopefully a promising Spring.
I can't wait to utilize the fruits of your labor
and awaken the strawberry-blonde little girl
in me.