Gnarled
Cave was carved from crumbling rock,
inhabited by a seagull flock,
which chirped and squawked the day away,
mottled chicks would stretch and play.
Above this cave a gnarled tree
sat watching guard, solitarily,
it felt ashamed, neither green nor tall,
a stubby bush, not much at all.
No matter where the birds would roam,
always they could find their cliff home,
for like a beacon, seen from sky,
shrub guided them while they did fly.
So everything does have a role,
be it a star or simple mole,
no matter beauty or hidden skill,
we all must do what is God's will.
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.
