Scarlet knobs of corn cobs fill a field.
Cascading lichens bedazzle every tree.
Barbed bushels of plump blackberries sing to me.
Find me a home more magical than this. You cannot.
Pink flurries hang from limbs, sometimes gracing us with a dance as they fall.
On dark, cool nights, watch as lights zing from tree to tree.
Oh, how it must feel to be so carefree,
To dance in the moonlight,
To sing my song as though I belong.
And yet, all I can do is watch and listen.
I'll let my imagination take me.
YOU ARE READING
Dumping Grounds
PuisiSometimes when you are dumping your mind, poetry arises. In this anthology, travel with me to dreamy places or the dark corners of my mind, perhaps invoking the writer in you. I hope these pieces speak to you in some way as they have to me. Dumping...
