'Frozen Red Berries' Poem by Linda Winchell

Frozen little red berries, still on the vine
nothing but poison you'd make
if your berries, were to be crushed into wine.

What then is your use, of your berries, deepest of red?
the birds don't seem interested
that they might feast on you, to be fed.

Bright red on the bush, you now sit, frozen still!
Not one berry dropping to the ground
I see your bush, is still filled.

Frozen little berries, what then is your use?
The deer won't eat you
only given a slight sniff , by my goose.

Now frozen in time, you hang from the limbs
Maybe fuller you've become, after that much needed trim?
To see you in Spring, leaves brightest of green
will the birds eat you then, of leftover berries, they glean?

They say your a Honeysuckle?
I really don't know, just why?
I haven't a green thumb
and if I pick and eat your berries
I was told I would get sick or die!

So why then even make them?
are they just your jewels, red and such?
Or are you just tempting, all to come eat and to touch?