Ronald Peat

Rookie - 75 Points (4/24/42 / California)

1a Perfection/ From My Book. - Poem by Ronald Peat


Every oak will lose a leaf to the wind.
Every star-thistle has a thorn.
Every flower has a blemish.
Every wave washes back upon itself.
Every ocean embraces a storm.
Every raindropp falls with precision.
Every slithering snail leaves its silver trail.
Every butterfly flies until its wings are torn.
Every tree-frog is obligated to sing.
Every sound has an echo in the canyon.
Every pine drops its needles to the forest floor.
God’s whispered breath at dusk comes
with a frost and leaves within dawn’s faint mist,
for all of creation remains perfect, adorned,
with a dead sparrow on the ground.

Comments about 1a Perfection/ From My Book. by Ronald Peat

  • Ramesh Rai (1/23/2012 12:11:00 AM)

    Each and every line of this poem is touching. where there is perfection there is God. Poignant. with regards. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, December 3, 2010

Poem Edited: Saturday, December 18, 2010

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