Day # 116: Poem Week

#116

 Woods

Looking like it needs a trim

scraggly, split ends

Buds beginning to appear

Around

Open flesh wounds

Broken arms

Left gaping after winters

Rage

Old dried leaves

Still visible on the forest floor

Twigs

And logs and lengths

Of rotting wood

Leaves will grow

green

And hide the scars

Camouflage the ravaged woods

And moss and fern will line

Rivers bend

to feed the earth again. 

A poem week: poem number one. 

4/26/2010

The chicken whisperer