PROGRESSIVE POEM
Each day during the month of April I will add a line to this poem.
WHAT IS POETRY?
Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words. --Robert Frost
It is finding the truth, no need to lie.
It's munching on watermelon and letting seeds fly.
It's a letter that comes with a card in the mail.
It's the lacy silver threads left by a garden snail.
It's daffodil trumpets covering the hill.
It's a deer at the creek, drinking her fill.
It's giggling and laughing and being absurd.
It's reading a haiku and feeling each word.
It's a dragon who blows flames, loud and hardy.
It's fairies in the garden having a tea party.
It's the sound of a truck shifting its gears.
It's the feel of two soft puppy dog ears.
It's a bright sun rise and glowing moon shine.
It's a Carolina wren singing in a Lob-lolly pine.
It's a snowman rolled on a cold winter morn.
It's crows calling from tall tasseled corn.
It's the whisper of hummingbird wings in the air.
It's plaits and curls tied with bows in my hair.
It's spying a bird feeding her young.
It's pink cotton candy that melts on your tongue.
It's watching black ants as they march by.
It's corn on the cob for the Fourth of July.
It's a bumble bee tumbling inside a rose.
It's dandelion puffs tickling my nose.
It's a penny tossed in a wishing well.
It's the cackle of a witch casting a spell.
It's roasting marshmallows over a campfire flame.
It's squirrels in the poplar trees playing a game.
It's mermaids on a rock, combing their hair.
