'The Ground' - Poem by Linda Winchell
The ground is working its hardest,
Right before the flowers of springtime come into bloom,
Struggling to poke their colorful heads for all to see,
What beneath the earth entombed.
Winter’s frosty days and nights,
Have left the ground as hard as stone,
But with time and warmth that spring shall bring,
The ground will give many a birth of home.
It feeds the creatures that walk upon,
It holds our footing firm,
It even feeds unseen creatures below,
Like the littlest of worms and bugs that squirm.
Creating trees and bushes,
Bringing air its breathable clarity,
So see the ground isn’t really that hard at all,
It was put there for you and me.
By: Linda Winchell
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