Little strawberries,
Precious rubies of red,
Forget your worries
On your flower bed.
Freckled with beads,
Some call them seeds.
Drowned in the raindrops,
Tangled by weeds,
We discard your tops,
You’re teased for your seeds.
Don’t worry, don’t fret
There’s hope for you yet.
Despite all your troubles,
Despite your odd features,
You’re the preferred fruit of many a creature.
You are berry beautiful, gorgeous in hue,
No one would dare deny that it’s true.
Oh, radiant berry, you’re misunderstood,
You really should know that you’re better than “good!”
New West Press 