July Morning

What about the bwildgrapeees
That hover in the trees
And scout amongst the clover
Though spring is already over?

And what about the crow
Whose call is such a scold
To sparrows and the deer
And any passing near?

What about the spreading grape
Taking on a hilly shape
Hiding life within the ditch,
Threading a quilt, vine by stitch?

The beauty and the peril
Of life far gone from sterile
Calls me to its fold
Till a mosquito bites my nose.

–Shaun Perkins

2 thoughts on “July Morning”

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