Poem: “The Sprig”

Standard
The Sprig

The rubber tires clipped it,
	so we tenderly spaded
And edged out the roots.

The three glossy leaves
	were crisp with promise
And we saw a wholesome trunk.

But foresight ended there.
	Betrayed in a sea of grass,
The sprig stood bravely.

However, the season's shaving,
	grooming, and engraving
Denuded its barkless shaft.
May 23, 2006

 

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