A contradiction in terms
strange as it may seem
the strawberry is not a berry
tho' does go well with cream
and you may stop along the way
to smell them in the rose family
as botanically-speaking
it's a fruit actually
with seeds on the outside
suck it and see
pick one or two perhaps pluck a few
to make jam on scones for tea
A strawberry is bright and
red,
It grows inside a garden bed,
And is a yummy snack
instead.
summer’s first morsel ~
its rosy heavenliness
dripping pink honey
(June Full Moon – Algonquian, Ojibwe, Dakota, and Lakota)
O' Strawberry Moon
Magnanimous beatitude and abundance boon
A beautiful glint off still waters
A shining hope for sons and daughters
Close and low you hang in a summer sky
With nightjars, fireflies, and nighthawks mystically flying by
Your warm, golden, reddish calmness looms
Man expresses gratitude for another sweet strawberry moon
Beneath a strawberry moon in sapphire sky,
on last limbs, spirit torn and weathered
Merciless passerby’s malicious lies,
mud clings as ancient as memory.
Shards of ice lancing, piercing,
in darkness and in profuse silence
Each frayed root carries burden
each stain, the wind proclaims.
Rotting bark leaves its prints into earth,
she lifts her last bating branch,
towards the abyss of emptiness,
her last redemption, salvation.
What had once been plush and whole,
had learned the language of stones,
the patience of cold rivers,
the stubborn song of survival.
Even the torn edges strand erect,
uprooted, plucked from soulless soil
The winding tree takes its last breath,
beneath a strawberry moon.
oh strawberry moon
i will await your visit
with anticipation
with your illusion
i will almost touch your face
i'll smile with pleasure
many names you are called
algonquin and ojibwe
traditions live on
strawberry moon
june 29, 2026
Freshman high school cheerleader,
long hair the color of the summer berry,
heights of strawberry flight.
Lithe athlete with sky-hued eyes,
smile of a garden fairy.
Teenage enthusiasm,
flier,
storming the sidelines.
Crowd with alumni roaring,
celebratory September night,
heights of strawberry flight.
Once saw a pretty fairy
With lips like strawberry
And just by chance
She split her pants
Revealing legs quite hairy
not so deep in the meadow lives the strawberry mushroom faerie
her thoughts are not frivolous; not silly, not baseless or aerie.
She goes by no names, but some of secretly call her Mary.
Her loveliness is well known, this kind, wonderful young faerie.
She will do whatever you need to help you feel good.
If you want to know how behave, watch her from behind the wood.
She is no show off, but she does helpful things that we all could.
If we were more generous and giving, most of us would.
The Strawberry Moon
Beneath the glow of the strawberry moon,
Life moves in rhythm — not late, not soon.
Its soft red light up in the sky,
Feels like the hope we hold inside.
It changes shape, like smiles and tears,
Like happy days and hidden fears.
Each part of life, both big and small,
Tells a story — we live it all.
We rise, we fall — we heal, we grow,
We learn so much from all we know.
We laugh, we cry, we lose, we find,
We carry dreams and peace of mind.
Yet still, the strawberry moon will shine,
On broken hearts and healing time.
It shows us: even pain can fade,
And even scars can make us brave.
So when you’re tired or feeling low,
Look at the moon and let it show —
That life moves on, the dark will pass,
And love and light will always last.
Like a strawberry.
Seeds on the outside.
Tethered vines of trees.
In the grass.
I have to eat sometimes.
Just yummy stuff.
There’s no one there.
So I stir a little more.
Look outside the outside place.
And you’ll think of berries and shrubs too.
That could be endless.
Like socks, and tendons.
I have to eat them all.
Rancid and sweet.
Nothing but outer space.
Past that tree.
I have to grind it all up.
With strawberries, and blueberries.
Making some jam.
And growls.
Inedible jam.
We took the sludge we made.
Worth nothing.
Tossed it into space.
Like a strawberry.
Gets thrown away right off the vine.
Pretty
Is a concept
You'll never
Understand
If you think
I see you
Through endeavours
Of the hand
I love
You make the effort
Appreciate
Your style
I love you
Past the surface
Just deeper
All the while
You paint
Just like a rainbow
With hues and shades
And stuff
Yet beautiful
Has found you
Already
You're enough
the Strawberry Moon
native Algonquian tribes
call full moon of June
strawberry milk moon
dipped in dark chocolate sky
shooting star flies by
Say hello to June, come greet each floral scent that fills your hearts and noses
it is time to put away your winter garbs & lose yourselves in leaves and roses
June, a month of gentle starts as the days get longer filled with golden light
we oft renew our garden vows, planting seeds of joy wherever we go
"Oh! Flowery Month of June, sing to us a song of hope & gentle care,
as you lead us through the garden path of life with truth and dare...
With each rising bran new day comes the promise of a new tomorrow
help us embrace the moments that come to us without deep sorrow
Goodbye May Hello June, like those lovely strawberries I see grow in June,
I am longing for serene enchanting nights, beneath your strawberry moon.
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