Moss Poem by james watkin
Moss
A forest you have made
Of this earth too.
As mighty and as spruced
In glooms' green hue.
Let no winds, respecting
Be less high-held
Than those haughty, of steeps
Germanic-quelled!
Twitch for twaddle of this;
Crumpling in shock.
What I upsoak, hand-stretched
Of peace unlock
Fern grove's, luxurious;
Rill's chill fanning.
Full-bodied; full-benumbed!
Summer-spanning.
Friday, August 16, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: nature
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1/26/2026 7:38:08 PM # 1.0.0
