Today's poem is by Edmund August
Squirrel Hunting
You can sit in fallen leaves and gnawed hulls,
your back against a hickory, and close your eyes,think of nothing about which you can speak,
nothing that could matter to anyone watching you.Don't let the gossiping wind stir your thoughts,
whir in your ear and pretend to be innocent.You can hear above such cover, hear nails on bark,
teeth wearing holes, shadow sounds that hidein plain sight. Or you can be content just knowing
them and open your eyes to the blinding world.
Copyright © 2002 Edmund August All rights reserved
from Smartish Pace
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Please support
Verse Daily's very generous sponsors:
Sponsor Verse
Daily!
Home
Archives
Web Monthly Features
About Verse Daily
FAQs
Contact Verse Daily
Publications Noted & Received
Copyright © 2002 Verse Daily
All Rights Reserved
[an error occurred while processing this directive]