From the Magician's Bag
From the magician’s bag
a small seed spills into the mud
Of little consequence to onlooker bugs
just a soft plop – no splash or thud
Years later a full-grown tree stands there
the fragrance of her peaches filling the air
Ripe, plump and juicy, hanging heavy from each branch
Pick just one, ignite an avalanche…
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
