Even with the acacia blooms
the paved path seems
barren without the
warm sage bushes
Work of orange crew
big black gloves
and gardening shears
A tall man stamps
the ground with his feet
and fiddles with a
half crowbar
With his formals
he could pass of
as an engineer of
the building he is
working by
With his light blue gloves
that stop at the wrists
he could be a researcher
in a lab working with
a fine pollination needle
The soil didnt seem stabbed
and there lay a bush that didnt
at the beginning of the week.
1 comment:
Beautifull ly contructed poem. I like it and thumbs up! ^^
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