Larry Schreckengost Poems

We had a dachshund who loved digging holes
Seldom seen him without mud on his nose
Must be related to some breed of mole
This dog and I each had our established roll
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Leaning against a maple red
Breathing crisp fall air
I strain to see through window's glare
And ever-present tear
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I do enjoy being heard
Listening to my spoken word
If one terrible day, a choice
My Life or my voice
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Begin, a melody within
Tell the story side to side
Then end to end
Accomplish this with little pen
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Last night Jack Frost
Carved his icy name
Across our window pane
The fire built to match the night
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I think it's great
That you want a snake
And go against advice
Still you might be right
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At the crest of a steep hollow
Is where I met this noble fellow
An Alabama pine of tremendous girth
Laid out dead, upon the earth
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I roam the forest vast
Where wild sumac blocks my path
And thorny briars cut and slash
As sky grows dark with smoke and ash
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Poems are the whispers in the breeze
Mingling with shivering trees
The rising flash
Of a campfire's ash
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Oh thank you for my new boots
This pair will surely see good use
To have had these in my passionate youth
When nature filled my dreams
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