When life gives you lemonade,
be sweet, summer child.

Hide your wrinkled fingers, and
twisted wrists.
Forget the seeds dropped in panic,
and how they became sprawled orchard.
Forget how you tired your way out,
reaching to the sky for rind or God,
and only rind found you.
The bitter at least a familiar door.

Drink the sweetness, sweet.
Hold the ice-cold glass
to your sun-burnt skin.

When the crowds applaud
your blessings, your luck,
say nothing puckered.

Drink up.
Drink up.

Prompt: Lemonade + Prompt: What comes after The Work?