To Love Like a Mason Jar

the glass that held the marmalade
when oranges were falling in the yard
watched the little sister learn
neath the hand of a wiser kindred.
“One stir left, two stirs right,”
'til it was ready for the biscuits.

the glass that held the fireflies
on the evening far off summer time;
who sat on the high up windowsill
with holes poked through for breath.
to comfort the girl afraid of the dark,
and to keep the shadows away.

the glass that held the cider spice,
with an apple wheel spinning afloat;
to stir it with a cinnamon stick
and warm your Autumn chest
as the frost crept through the pane.
you won't be cold.

the glass that held a Christmas candle
to warm the honey roast;
the center of the table for a moment
to be admired with the feast.
But only a moment,
until the melted wax becomes a hassle.

the glass that sits, when the season's not right,
in a dusty cupboard;
the maple is prettier on the outside.
hidden behind an old coffee mug and
that gravy boat you don't like very much.

but no matter how dusty or cracked I may get,
when the oranges have fallen,
when the fireflies glow,
when the frost is creeping beneath the window,
I'll be there for the marmalade,
the light in the dark,
the cider, the apple wheels,
and the candle to spark.