To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
Pruning Time The shears ice through dead wood of the almond tree. This is profitable, to cut away what has already gone, to make room for the new. I close the shears, Put them away for another season as I struggle to feel my serum of nutrients, the bud unfolding. The dormancy has passed. I feel the nine year-old Awake to the song of birds. |
Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged!