The Bark of the Birch
The bark of the birch - it’s curled for peeling
as the whippoorwill commands the block.
I fill my lungs with the pine-riddled air,
discounting the call of the clock.
A trickle of water escapes the hose,
a new pepper has sprouted - no, a pair!
Pleased with the snips of roses I chose,
apart from a vase, I haven’t a care.
Copyright © Stacy Sardelli | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment