house haircut

Every year about June
his house needs a haircut:
Boston Ivy, which covers
two sides of old red brick,

starts to encroach on roof,
making eaves disappear
more or less the way ears
hide in an unshorn head.

For years he had dragged
the old aluminum ladder
out of its hidey hole
and leaned its extended

length up into the realm
of Jack’s beanstalk’s top
in the clouds while his wife
stood anxiously ready to catch

any falling objects: leaves,
bits of vine, or him, as they
fell to earth. Vine tonsorialism
not being strongly developed skill

on his side of the family,
they decided, after his
threescore and tenth
birthday, the aquire

a  shiny new hi tech
ladder that practically
cuts vines and harvests
golden eggs and harps

on its own. So if you see
a wonderfully shorn
red brick home on your
way to the palace . . . .

(Visited 27 times, 1 visits today)
FavoriteLoadingAdd to favorites

About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.