Waking From a Catnap
Gently,
the maple's
veined hydra of a
tounge stretches out
in fall to taste the midday
mist, to sate its chronic thirst.
How like a baby in its mother's arms
is this rough-grained senior clothed in bark.
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.
