Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem-shorn March 21, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:17 pm
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Each year, the mighty willow

on the corner, trunk three feet around,

or more,

hums with the buzzing saws that

trim it to the trunk.

Supple yellow switches, eager for naughty backsides

or basket making pile on either side of the fence,

gathered for scrap not utility,

and a giant stands naked again.