Big ones, little ones
old ones, new,
jars make me jealous
by the things they can do.
They hold and preserve things
in colors of all hues,
from jams and joint creams
to junk like booze.
Fragile ones, tough ones,
clear, brown or blue,
jars are good for holding things,
but so are me and you.
Jealousy, justice, jitters,
and joy to name a few.
But just like a jar,
we can keep or jettison our contents
and replace it with something new.
I have a tendency *that I'm trying to fight cuz I have enough stuff* to collect jars. But at least I no longer wash out mayonnaise jars and keep them. I like this poem, as it's about so much more than jars!
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