Wading the brown shallows of last year’s deciduous leaves

Makes the sounds of wadding paper and of crashing waves

Which stop only when I pause to peer around the bases of trees

For morels this crisp, bright April day


Then the hardwoods give way to pines,

The leafy sounds to needles’ silence evergreen,

Everlasting, at least unless the whole grove dies

As so many do at hands of man and machine



Written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt poetry challenge:

Write an 8 line poem that contains the following words:

  • Everlasting
  • Evergreen