Blue Mason Jars
Blue Mason jars sit on the shelf in the small barn,
gathering dust, never refilled, empty.
She touches the jars,
seeing them filled with fruits of the harvest,
as her own life was once filled with love, work, family.
She feels like the blue jars, empty, gathering dust.
She shrugs, begins to close the barn door,
sees the cool blue of the jars.
She touches the jars, the raised lettering,
thumb caressing trapped air bubbles
as her mind caresses life embedded in flesh.
She takes a blue jar from the shelf, carries it to the house,
cleans the blue with soap and water,
releasing color from ravages of dirt,
releasing memory to travel the harvest of her life.