Poplars

Poplars, tall slats on the edge
thank the breeze for scratching
their backs.

Their gratitude sounds like
waves curled up on the beach.
White noise for a moment
before all the colored noise begins.

I read to them poetry,
lines thrown to the wind,
caught up and carried
across the field
to the undertow.

 

Comments

  1. Lovely Allen.

    “White noise for a moment
    before all the colored noise begins” These are beautiful lines. At least it is Nature’s noise 🙂

  2. Well said, Jerry!

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