Just a few years ago
there was no poison oak here
or if there were
it was hiding
far out in the woods.
But without care,
without pulling up
or culling of the vines
it has spread all over.
Poison oak surrounds the house
with us inside it.
It reaches out from
dark edges of the treeline.
It spreads tendrils
across the overgrown yard.
It grasps,
and clings,
and crawls
up the outside
walls of the house.
It lurks at the bottom
of the stairs off the deck.
We are trapped. [We can't leave.]
We know the stinging pain
of poison oak,
the reddening burn,
consuming itch,
the festering welts,
so we stay inside
to avoid it
and it only grows stronger.
YOU ARE READING
Poems & Stories
PoetryThese are some poems and stories for kids. They are written for early readers and reflect different styles of verse.
