Another acorn poem. Fewer are falling but with larger consequences.
it’s so crowded with others the chain reaction
sounds like a small avalanche or a distant
pocket billiard break with the click and roll
of collisions and kisses until there’s
silence – and everything is rearranged.
Late
Fall
When the last, lone acorn lands
on the roof,it’s so crowded with others the chain reaction
sounds like a small avalanche or a distant
pocket billiard break with the click and roll
of collisions and kisses until there’s
silence – and everything is rearranged.
I like this poem and the earlier one on acorns but I think I'd like to see them pulled together and tightened somehow. The image of the acorns dropping like slow hail is great!
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