An Old Wood Poem by james watkin

An Old Wood



Nature, either in her dress
Or her deportment
A smidge untidy
But never ugly!
Meanwhile I, further, deeper
Gather up the proofs...

By hand and foot, dropping, dropped
For leaf, clasped and kicked!
Crooked, wayward, in
Years, what's advancing
For her own, through branch and root.
Some grand dame but spoofs!

Thursday, September 1, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: wood,being old
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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