wire fence

A snowblower is spouting
high jets of snow and frozen dog shit
from the vet’s parking lot
up, up and away! over the fence

onto the virgin snow
of my neighbour’s back yard.

Pockmarks pummel
the smooth wind sculpted expanse
into what wars will come.

The pox really sprouts in spring.

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: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
This entry was posted in lotus eaters, Poetry, scapes, serial, thoughts below ground and tagged , , . 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Your email address will not be published.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.