Today's poem is by A. E. Stallings
The Compost Heap
It waxed with autumn, when the leaves
Dogwood, oak and sycamore
Avalanched the yard and slipped
Like unpaid bills beneath the door.
In winter it gave off a warmth
And held its ground against the snow,
The barrow of the buried year,
The swelling that spring stirred below.
In summer, we’d identify
The volunteers and green recruits,
A sapling apple or a pear
That stemmed from bruised and bitten fruits.
And everything we threw away
And we forgot, would by and by
Return to earth, or drop its seed
Take root and start to ramify.
We left the garden in the Fall
You turned the heap up with a rake
And startled latent in its heart
The dark glissando of the snake.
Copyright © 2004 A. E. Stallings All rights reserved
from The National Poetry Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Support Verse Daily
Sponsor Verse Daily!
Web Monthly Features
About Verse Daily
Submit to Verse Daily
Publications Noted & Received
Copyright © 2002, 2003, 2004 Verse Daily
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2002, 2003, 2004 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved