Treasure Island

Michael Pruchnicki

Seeds and Husks

Look, he said, at the gray squirrel
perched on top the wooden fence
that borders the garden out back.
Study it well before it takes offense
and departs without a by your leave,
scattering hull and seed in its track -

Like a poet with half-formed idea,
who discards reams of dry husks,
seeking the seed within each morsel;
who digests the meat of metaphor
and simile, set in rhythm and rhyme
in lines that defy inexorable time,
leaving images that remain behind
imprinted alive on a reader's mind.

Submitted: Friday, February 29, 2008

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  • C.R. Clark (2/29/2008 10:23:00 AM)

    Great poem, Mike. I've been there. sometimes the thoughts come quick and right but, more often for me, they come slow and need to be winnowed well before they are right.Thanks for a very good read.
    Richard (Report) Reply

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