Poems

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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