-- Snowberries --
John Herlihy
Those white snowberries,
Take their cue from snow.
These daytime ghost berries,
In winter white, they grow.
Pale clusters, close packed,
In blood red or snow white.
Snow decked, neatly racked,
In winter frost, a fine sight.
Some livid clusters cry red,
In frosty cold, out of place.
In the snow, they lie in bed,
A shining light on their face.
Cracked open against snow,
Their broken hearts red flow.
- - - - - -
(c) John Herlihy 10 June 2020
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