Strawberries

i was a small strawberry once
in summer shade--
deep shadows of sleeping cats, watchful of
rose white and rose red, both sandal-footed and
cold-grass frolicking, issuing to the backyard
world a summer-girl chirrup succeeded by one
toothy boast and one
shy smile.

i was a strawberry sometimes then--
a summer dress made of me, a scarlet fruit--
clothed in a berry-hued and seed-studded
white-dotted fabric frock,
i twirled and orbited a small place
like the same true fruit in cool soil
among chastening berry blooms
in the small silent garden.

the strawberry and i--
plump and red, sweetening in summer sun
laughing at the distillation of time,
at the absence of memory then.