Winter Onions
my little round sleepers
with lots of coats on, mud
huggers with a tribal bottom
perfectly lined up at the
bus stop of spring, soft
under cold loam, a miracle
despite the banality of hidden
numbers; time to drink tea
as I wait in a cooling garden
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2016
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