Seed Money
All nine feet of green, moving through the reeds
Leaving around town strange packets of seeds
With a note, asking a curious deed
To till at night only, with utmost speed
Sunburn strips the magic, leaving just weeds
My Pa lectured it would never succeed
But having a number of mouths to feed
Under the moon, I planted what we'd need
For a crop to nourish, flower and breed
Townsfolk thought me foolish, would scoff and plead,
'Recover your senses; they're worthless beads!'
Yet they leapt by cresting heights to exceed
The sky's wide reach, blossoming a stampede
Of gold coins, rubies, and diamonds - indeed!
8/16/20
Copyright © Michelle Faulkner | Year Posted 2020
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