Long ago

Tropicana orange juice 
Came in glass bottles
My mother re-used one for years 
It held drinking water in our fridge
I never thought of it much 
Until I came in from playing hard
From working in the fields
Or from mowing the yard 
It was then
I’d come in
Drenched in sweat
Fling open the refrigerator
And grasp the bottle with desperation
I’d feel its coolness
Slippery in my hands
I’d press its chilled body against mine
Oh, did that feel fine! 
Then, hastily unscrew the metal lid
Bring the bottle to my lips
Give it a hefty tilt
And let the cold water immerse 
My parched mouth
And tongue
Gulping audibly
Ravenous for refreshment
Allowing water to overflow from my mouth
Dribble out the sides
And down my chin and chest
Adam’s ale, cool and fresh 
After I’d had my fill
I’d wipe my mouth with
The back of my hand 
And let the rest evaporate 
Off my salty skin
I had effectively drained the bottle
So, I refilled and nestled 
The bottle back in her cool spot
And forget, again
About her glory 
Until I was very hot