Cranberry sauce may be a Turkey Day staple, but it wasn’t available in a can until 1912, when a lawyer named Marcus L. Urann got the idea to buy a cranberry bog and can cranberries. He eventually formed a cranberry cooperative that renamed itself Ocean Spray. By 1940, cranberry sauce had become the jiggly, canned log beloved (and argued over) by millions of Americans.
~Erin Blakemore, Smithsonian magazine
I didn't write a poem about cranberries (for Becky's prompt) but I did find this poem by Carl Sandburg. Helga was his daughter.
by Carl Sandburg
THE WISHES on this child's mouth
Came like snow on marsh cranberries;
The tamarack kept something for her;
The wind is ready to help her shoes.
The north has loved her; she will be
A grandmother feeding geese on frosty
Mornings; she will understand
Early snow on the cranberries
Better and better then.
A poem by World War II veteran Howard Nemerov that takes place in late November:
by Howard Nemerov
Late in November, on a single night
Not even near to freezing, the ginkgo trees
That stand along the walk drop all their leaves
In one consent, and neither to rain nor to wind
But as though to time alone: the golden and green
Leaves litter the lawn today, that yesterday
Had spread aloft their fluttering fans of light.
What signal from the stars? What senses took it in?
read the rest here
This xkcd comic seemed almost like a poem to me.
The Time Before and After Land:
Sloth Reads has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Becky!