"Leaves"
by Joel, age 13
No one seems to hear them rustle
As we get caught up in our hustle;
Birds with them will twist and tussle
To make a nest within to snuggle.
Suirrels will pack them close for heat,
Then shoo them out to keep things neat;
In fall, their colors are tough to beat,
Although, to eat, they're not so sweet.
On the ground or in a tree,
Used as a hive by wasp or bee;
A hiding place for fly or flea,
What use for leaves is there for me?
A La Carte (June 30)
-
Why old people cry / The quiet crisis of prayerless orthodoxy / How not to
be a functional atheist on your vacation / The sick fruit of our speech in
an ag...
1 week ago

1 comment:
Great poem!! Good job Joel!
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